


Elementary My Dear Malfoy

by MyWhiteKnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, HP: EWE, Orange_Coyote, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWhiteKnight/pseuds/MyWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps repeating 7th year wasn’t the best idea Hermione ever had, but she wanted her NEWTs, needed them. Consequently, the war forced every returning upper class man to take Muggle Studies. To Hermione’s great dismay, she is partnered with Draco Malfoy for a project that counts for half of their final grade. Maybe, just maybe, this project will be better than she ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Project

“Good morning, class,” an entirely too awake Professor McGowan greeted her optional eighth years. A groan returned her greeting, not that she cared. She would make make the most daring go at Project House Unity. “Today, we will be starting a long term project.” Another round of groans. “As you all know, we have been reading muggle literature, relating what we know of their culture with our’s. Now then, if you could all open your books to page…”

Quills scratched all around her, though none quite so quickly or forcefully as Hermione Granger’s. The young woman leaned over her parchment, listening if not fully awake, as her quilled danced along the scroll before her. Intelligent brown eyes glanced from the board to her scroll and back, as her hand tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. Chestnut, fizzy hair over time became a tamed mane of regal curls. Just as her figure filled out in a most pleasing manner.

Life after the war had been a whirlwind of activity. Between rebuilding and roiling emotions, Hermione found herself as exhausted as before and during the war, if not more so. She never found time to take care of her hair, nor really mind it. As far as she was concerned, her body didn’t really feel that different, though the way boys stared at her now would prove her wrong.

Yet, here she sat, scant months after the last battle held here. She half expected several new ghosts to haunt her. Even if their semi-transparent forms didn’t follow her every move, their deaths never left her mind, nor did her nightmares. It didn’t surprise her, therefore, when a scant few students returned for their optional 8th year. 

Honey eyes surveyed the room around her, taking in what was left of her Hogwarts year. She and Neville, the only Gryffindors, sat together at one desk. Padma Patil and couple other Ravenclaws came back, as well as a few Hufflepuffs; most notably Hannah Abbott and Ernie McMillan. Perhaps the most surprising return were the Slytherins. While the return Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, or Theodore Nott left most wary, the honor of biggest surprise went to the return of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to hate the boy, not anymore, not when she saw him at his own home. Living with that everyday, unwitting and unwilling witness of so much evil and pain, Hermione couldn’t fathom the changes her classmate underwent during those times. She knew of her own demons, some of them brought alive by his own family. The amount that he must have now, the thought physically pained her.

She shuddered, her hand unconsciously gripping her left arm. However, Professor McGowan’s bright, sunny voice pierced through her foggy mood. _How much bloody pepper up does this woman put in her tea,_ Hermione bitterly thought, trying to focus once more on class.

“Now then, time for my biggest surprise of the day,” the peppy blonde in front of her grinned at her catatonic class. “I am proud to announce a large project! For this project, I will pair each of you with a partner. You will each receive a genre of entertainment, be it literature, film, or television. Together, you will need to do a thorough research of what similarities and differences you find, think big and think deep, children! Not just ‘he can use a point me spell’ and ‘they use automobiles.’ 

“You will have three months to research, and write me an essay, at least three to four feet. Include what muggle devices, processes, or methods they would use in replacement of magic, as well as the pros and cons of each method,” the professor listed, ticking a finger with each objective. 

“Finally, based on your genre and medium of choice, I will construct a situation reminiscent and influenced by your topic. Therefore, it would behoove you to seriously research your topic of choice, any and every theorem and idea beforehand. You will have a week to achieve your objectives that I will give to you before you enter. Your marks will come from a combination of your essay, and how many objectives you complete. There will be a bonus objective, naturally, as well as a main task. Any questions?”

The class stared agape at their professor. They knew that all the other teachers were becoming sadistic with their homework and projects, but Hermione hoped that this class would at least remain somewhat sane. Within moments, a buzz went through the students, some asking questions and others babbling happily to each other. 

“What other work are we expected to do in addition to this project?” A ravenclaw asked.

“Ah yes, good question,” Professor McGowan nodded. “You will still be receiving normal assignments from me, as well as practice NEWTs. I will work to make your normal assignments little check points for your large project. Class time will be used as a research and consultation period. Each class period, I will make sure that every group is making satisfactory progress.” 

Hermione’s hand began to cramp from all the writing. She had to do well, there was no other option. She vowed to do whatever it took to make it a success.

“Now then, on to your partners,” the cheery petite woman clapped. “You will work in pairs, and once it is chosen, there is no switching.” Her hazel eyes glinted with mischief, a look Hermione instantly mistrusted. “Let’s begin.”

Hermione half listened to the first few pairs, wondering why the woman looked so damn pleased with herself. After the first couple, a Ravenclaw she barely noticed and a random Hufflepuff, Hermione began to understand the exact reason why she appeared so happy. 

“Neville Longbottom will work with Pansy Parkinson,” she recited with a smile. Neville squeaked and cast a worried glance at Hermione. _Honestly, he could race up to Voldemort and chop off the snake’s head right in front of a horde of evil, but he panics at the thought of working with a Slytherin,_ her amused musing took her as she reassuringly patted his back. “Theodore Nott and Ernie McMillan. Hannah Abbott and Blaise Zabini.” 

Hermione’s face began to pale, faint and dizzy. If they were already paired like this, there were very few choices left to her. The impish gleam in her eye left no doubt. She knew who her partner was before the professor in front of her even uttered a syllable. 

“Finally, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy,” she smiled. “Now then, the rest of your class will be spent choosing your genre. I will need your medium by the beginning of next class as well. Now then, pair up you lot!”

Slow shuffling echoed through the suddenly silent room. Hermione received many a pitying and understanding glance. How she kept herself from growling, she didn’t know, but at last, she stood up and walked towards the intimidating blonde in the corner of the class. She didn’t want or need their sympathy. It’s not like they were delivering her to a snatcher, for Merlin’s sake! She was a big girl war veteran, and Hermione knew she could handle a single ferret.

Her piercing gaze scrutinized the young man before her, for they weren’t children any longer. The gaunt, worn appearance he sported for most of the past year and a half began to fade away, and a more healthful countenance took over. He grew into his pointy features, appearing aristocratic and refined, and muscle tugged at his robes. 

What shocked Hermione the most, though, were the expression in his grey eyes. She recognized them, because saw it every time she looked in a mirror. Dead. Tired. Done. Exhausted with the world, not caring what happened next. She couldn’t even muster surprise or disgust, because she didn’t have it within her anymore. They both saw things, went through events, that could never be undone.

At that moment, a spark of recognition and understand flared between the two. She noticed that, while she had been observing her former enemy, he examined her in much the same way. He knew as well as she that they shared important similarities. Few would be able to accept them as they were. She sighed and sat the chair across from him. They regarded each other for some time more, neither choosing to acknowledge the tense glances from the rest of class.

“Malfoy,” Hermione nodded.

“Granger,” he said, never breaking eye contact.

“Can we get through this without killing each other?” she asked, head cocked to the side.

“Most likely,” he smirked, though Hermione noticed it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I just,” she began quietly, leaning back slightly while pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to fight anymore, not even with you. I’m too damn tired to care that much right now.” 

“I never really wanted to fight, either,” Malfoy shrugged across from her. “Truce?”

Hermione looked at him once again, a million memories assaulting her from all sides. From his taunting and teasing, to her punch, all leading to the past few months. She looked at his outstretched hand, and took it. With a tentative, firm shake, they came to an agreement.

“Truce,” she agreed. An eyebrow raised as both students heard the audible whoosh of the rest of the class. “Merlin, I’m tired of being a spectacle as well.” 

She resisted the urge to slump forward and bang her head on the desk before her with great force. Settling for her forehead upon her hand, a throaty chuckle made her blush. Growls and unintelligible murmurs flew from her mouth, before Hermione decided to look up. To her great surprise, a small, almost smile graced Malfoy’s face.

“And here, I thought you’d be used to it,” he chuckled once more.

“Harry took the brunt of the publicity,” she replied, sticking out her tongue. “That one time in fourth year was more than enough for me. I just want people to leave me alone.”

“Well, speaking from experience, once you make the news for something huge, you never leave it,” Malfoy replied, stormy eyes looking far beyond the room. “You’ll just have to get used to it, Granger.”

“That’s what Harry said,” she made another face at the memory.

“Remember, class, you need your genre by the end of class,” Professor McGowan reminded the obviously distracted class. Her eyes twinkled at the sight of the two former rivals speaking so civilly together. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore will be more than excited to hear about this development. 

An excited buzz ran through the class once more, as students began to work upon their projects in earnest. Hermione cast a calculating glance around the class before her. She knew, once Neville and Pansy were announced as partners, that Professor McGowan’s project meant to further Project House Unity. Indeed, their very pairing assured the brunette as much. 

“So, any ideas of what you want to research?” Hermione asked, trying to avoid over analyzing her current situation.

“Honestly, Granger, I don’t care,” Malfoy responded with a sigh. “As long as it’s not something so Hufflepuff as romance, I think I will live.”

“No romance then,” she chuckled softly, seeing that the snarky side of Malfoy still existed. It somehow comforted her, as she caught herself thinking maybe she could become more like her self, too. Her parchment contained the list of applicable genres, scratching out those unfit. “I don’t want any drama or slapstick comedy. I’ve never been the wittiest in that department.”

“Hey, I like comedy,” Malfoy said, leaning over to see her list. “And really, Granger, not witty?”

“I would point you towards Harry or Ron to tell you about my jokes, but knowing you, it wouldn’t matter,” she rolled her eyes as she tried to suppress a blush. “What about mystery?”

“I think that could work,” he slowly responded, thinking as he spoke. “It certainly would keep even your mind occupied.”

“Don’t try and tell me you wouldn’t like a nice challenge every now and again,” she smirked at the blonde before her.

“Oh? And how would you know that?” he replied in kind, a strange sparkle in his eyes.

“How else would you be second in our year otherwise?” she retorted.

“Ah, you know about that,” Malfoy titled his head in thought. “I thought it would be because I beat you out in potions every year. Except for sixth year, where Potter beat us both.”

“One subject, Malfoy, and by what, one or two percent,” she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out once more. “And Harry didn’t beat us. Snape’s notes in Harry’s potions book did.”

“I knew he was cheating,” the blonde exploded, standing up from his chair. A clatter brought the class’ attention to the pair. “Wait, is that were he got that damn spell from, too?”

Hermione could barely keep herself from laughing at the uncharacteristic outburst. Her hand covered her mouth keeping most of the giggles and snickers to herself. He shot her a withering glare, picking up the displaced chair before seating himself once more.

“Where else would Harry learn something that dark?” Hermione retorted once able. 

“Bloody hurt like hell,” Malfoy grumbled as he averted his gaze from the girl before him. 

“Yeah, I scolded Harry after that. Haven’t let him live it down, to be honest,” Hermione cringed at the memory of her best friend’s shocked face. “You’d think he’d learn after second year, really.”

“Second year? What does the Chamber of Secrets have to do with magical books,” he asked, inquisitive and interested. Hermione grinned as he quickly put together the dots, something she knew neither Harry nor Ron could do on a consistent basis. “I heard something of a book, but could that…?”

At that moment, their petite professor sidled next to Hermione before taking a seat. She smiled, far too wide and pleased for Hermione’s liking. Hazel eyes regarded the two students before her, noticing their sudden stiff posture and wary stares. The woman held her hands up in surrender, hoping to appease the pair.

Rumors throughout the open wartime raged in her ears. While she may be an adult and authority figure, her fellow professors had made her all too aware of their abilities. Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, the boy who sat before her, was said to be trained in the Dark Arts by his deranged aunt and her dark lord. Second in his year, Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick warned her of his apparent skill with a wand.

Across, sat the Golden Girl, Hermione Granger. Known as the brightest witch of her age, the Headmistress practically gushed with pride about her proficiency with magic. Indeed, she knew very few who could challenge her in a duel within the school, perhaps only the boy across from her now. Together, McGowan knew that they made a formidable team. She also realized that the scrutinizing stares they gave her were less than encouraging. To be honest, they were down right terrifying. 

“Well then, what have you two chose to do?” she asked, attempting to hide her fear with cheer.

“Mystery, professor,” Hermione politely answered, her gaze never dropping or changing. 

“Magnificent, quite a wide array to cover for your project then,” she smiled, her mind otherwise occupied. _Yikes, kids shouldn’t be this damn intimidating,_ she gulped. “And what medium would you two like to pursue? I know you don’t have to choose today, but just in case…” 

“Literature,” the boy answered, tone indifferent. 

“Excellent, marvelous,” she clapped, hoping that neither noticed her sweat under their intense study. “I am so happy you two chose this particular avenue! I will be most excited to prepare your tasks and situation.”

As she walked away, Professor McGowan watched Hermione and Draco surreptitiously. Her hope to glean more information to give to the Headmistress proved fruitful enough, but what she saw surprised her even more. The pair turned back towards each other, talking quietly. Instead of the tense awareness, alone they sat relaxed, even as the girl let her head slide to the table.

“Merlin, I scare most of the professors now,” she groaned, forehead firmly against the wood of the desk.

“Really Granger?” Malfoy sniggered across from her. “You went out, incapacitated, if not killed, quite a few people, who, might I add, were rather powerful and knowledgeable in the dark arts, while helping to bring down the darkest wizard of our time, and now have quite the intimidating stare.” She could almost hear his smirk. “It’s natural that people should fear you; it’s as intertwined with respect as any other emotion.”

“That doesn’t mean the professors have to be afraid,” she muttered. “I’ve been here since I was eleven, and only Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall can look at me with flinching. Even Sprout shies away from me!”

“Welcome to the club,” Malfoy smirked, obviously enjoying her current state of self pity.

“Your club sucks,” she retorted, finally looking up at her partner. A smile tugged at her mouth when she saw the mischief in his eyes and trademark smirk back in place. She observed that it no longer malicious, instead playful and teasing. “Although, it does have it’s perks. Filch doesn’t even speak to me, and Mrs. Norris runs the opposite direction.”

“Obviously. Something good has to come from all of this,” he drawled. “Now then, I think we were talking about a book and how it pertains to the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Now, that is a mystery for another day,” she replied, a mirroring smirk on her face.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

“Did you see that,” the black haired witch across from Neville hissed. 

His eyes immediately followed her gaze to find the oddest, yet most cliché and obvious, pairing. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger sat at a table in the corner of the class, well away from the rest of them. Moments ago, he watched with bated breath, along with everyone else in the room, when the announced their truce.

That did not prepare him for what happened next.

“A-are they laughing?” he whispered, glancing up at the Slytherin.

“I-I think so,” she murmured in response. “Sweet Salazar, I haven’t seen Draco that normal since the end of fifth year.” 

“I know what you mean,” Neville nodded as he watched the oblivious pair. “Hermione’s been serious ever since Dumbledore… You know…”

All Pansy nodded in agreement. These two students, who had been at each other’s throats for years, appeared at ease around each other. Which really was funny, she figured, seeing as most people outside their immediate friend group couldn’t relax around them. Needless to say, they were quite unnerving now in their various stages of depression and ‘getting over it’ as she termed the mental state.

“Parkinson, you don’t think that they could actually get on, do you?” Neville asked in wonder, as he heard some chuckling.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think they already are,” she glanced at the boy by her side. 

“Why hello Pansy, Neville, how are you both doing?” the cheery professor interrupted their musings. 

“F-fine, professor,” the startled Gryffindor answered. 

Pansy rolled her eyes. How he could be sorted into Gryffindor in the forest place mystified her. She thought she knew, as everyone else, after the last year, when he single handedly led a inter school rebellion. Hell, the boy had the balls to kill the Dark Lord’s familiar and pet right in front of the man! Any time outside of battle, he shook like a leaf. Figures. 

“And what genre have you chosen?” she smiled, sugary sweet.

“Romance, film,” Pansy shrugged at the professor, wanting the peppy woman away from her as soon as possible.

“Wonderful! I will take this down now,” McGowan nodded as she wrote on a scroll. “Thank you both, and I hope you will have an excellent project!”

Releasing a breath he didn’t know he held, Neville glared daggers at his partner.

“Romanic films? Really?” he huffed as indignantly as possible.

“What? I wanted that cow away from me as soon as possible. I’m allergic to her perky this early in the morning,” she retorted.

“Still, did have to be romance?” Neville grumbled as he watched the blonde professor leave Nott and Hannah only to make her way towards Draco and Hermione. 

“Now this is going to be interesting,” Pansy smirked as she watched their professor slide next to Hermione.

“That was stupid,” Neville grinned. “Trying to sneak up on them, and not expecting anything to happen?”

“Daft, that one,” Pansy agreed with an answering smile.

In an instant, their relaxed and easy body language gave way to stiff and suspicious. Even from this distance, Neville would have wilted under their combined glare. Sharing a glance with his partner, he decided that Pansy thought much the same. It wasn’t a secret that several professors, especially the newest ones who didn’t fight in the war, were afraid of some of the upperclassmen. 

While Neville’s bumbling clumsiness and ease of manner assured him that none of his teachers would fear him, the boy knew the same couldn’t be said for his friend. He watched class after class of professors, some new and others old, that could barely keep eye contact with her. A sidelong glance at the girl beside him made him realize that she, too, received the same treatment. 

“Can you see how nervous she is?” Pansy breathed, leaning close to Neville. He answered with a nod. “She’s lucky they are restraining themselves. Can you see their faces, ready to attack, even as she retreats to her desk.”

“What do you want me to say?” Neville shrugged. “If someone sneaked up behind me and tried to scare me, my first reflex is to hex them.”

Pansy watched the boy in thoughtful silence. Regrettably, most of their year honed a new type of reflex recently, one she even possessed. She knew, without asking, that the particular curse or spell would not be pleasant, nor harmless. Too often she awoke from dreams where her bed had taken some spell damage.

“You’d suppose they would warn the new professors how to deal with us,” Pansy answered at length. “Perhaps, McGowan decided to ignore it, which is moronic.” She watched as her partner’s jaw dropped, before following his gaze. “Merlin above.”

The smirk was back, in full force. Impish eyes, mischievous face, arms crossed, the whole of it. Pansy’s breath caught in her throat, turning away before she broke out crying. She hadn’t seen that on her best friend’s face in over a year. She wanted to burst out in tears and hug someone or do something. 

“Bloody hell,” Neville whispered as he turned towards her. “She’s smirking right back at him.”

They stared at each other in wonder and silence. Neville thought that only being around Harry or Ron would bring Hermione back to herself, but apparently not. An awkward hand patted Pansy’s shoulder, hoping to keep her from crying. He never really knew what to do with a crying girl other than be a human handkerchief. 

“You know what this means, right?” Pansy said after a moment, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. 

“That they’re good for each other?” Neville ventured, not quite trusting the gleam in the Slytherin’s expression.

“Exactly,” she leaned towards him, and, in a conspiratorial whisper added, “So, we’re going to get them together.”

“What about blood purity and all of that,” Neville asked, barely hoping to breathe. 

“I assure you that Draco hasn’t believed in that for years. Ironically, it is Granger’s fault for that,” she grinned at the brunette across from her. “And really, if I can’t make him laugh or smile or smirk, and she can? He’s like my brother, I’ve known him since we were in nappies. I want him to be happy.”

Neville regarded her for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing his chin all the while. It is true that this is the most normal he had seen his friend in a long, long time. Even after the war, when she was seen with Ron, she never seemed truly happy or at ease. Oh, she smiled and laughed for everyone, but he saw through the mask even when no one else did. He understood it.

“I can’t say I’ve known her as long, but I want the same for her,” he agreed. “But how?”

“Is she still with that Weasel?” Pansy asked, thoughtfully gazing at him.

“Ah, I-I don’t think so,” he winced at her recent rants. “I mean, they are technically still dating, but he’s been a real arse recently. She’s trying to preserve their relationship, but I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”

“Oh? Trouble in paradise?” she arched a perfectly curved brow.

“You can say that,” Neville sighed. “And when she finds out what exactly is causing that trouble, paradise will be lost. Well, when I say ‘finds out’ I mean ‘confirms her theory.’ That’s Hermione for you.”

“Do tell,” she grinned at the boy in front of her.

“You can’t go gossiping about this, Parkinson. I mean it when I say that it is going to all hit soon, and hard. She’s going to need friends, and she can’t know I told you this to spread around the school,” he leveled a firm stare.

“Why, Longbottom, I’m impressed. You grew a spine during the war,” she smirked at his scowl. “That was meant as a compliment, by the way. Yes, I promise to not spread this piece of juicy gossip if you tell me what her theory is. Perhaps, I could even speed up the process.”

Figuring that to be the best offer he’d receive, Neville agreed. For the rest of class, he explained the current situation and they began to flesh out a plan of sorts. They didn’t stop their planning and plotting until Professor McGowan’s announcement of five more minutes, the board now displaying the groups and what they chose. _How fitting that Hermione would chose mystery,_ Neville thought to himself. 

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

“Any group that doesn’t have a genre will need to come up before the end of class or I will randomly assign one,” Professor McGowan instructed from the front of the room. 

Hermione reflected on the past half hour with a mix of emotions. On one hand, she enjoyed the time thoroughly. She couldn’t remember the last time she relished a conversation. She knew, of course, Malfoy to be intelligent and quick witted. Hell, he had been her verbal sparring partner for almost six years!

What she didn’t expect was the turn of conversation from hostile to civil all at a single truce. Could being friendly be so easy? She barely knew how to handle the revelation. Perhaps her past view of Slytherins were too harsh, too judgmental. A glance around the room revealed that Neville and Pansy seemed to get on quite well, an observation shared by the blonde across from her. 

It felt surreal to be sitting here, musing and debating with Draco Malfoy of all people. Just this morning, she thought it impossible, yet here they sat. She realized something else equally startling; Hermione could relax in his presence. Maybe it was their mutual understand, be it the verbal truce or the implied recognition.

“Isn’t this weird,” she mused allowed. “Talking and not actually insulting one another for once?”

“It’s been unusual,” Malfoy answered, casting a sidelong glance at her through his pale lashes. “I can’t say I imagined sitting here and talking with you to be so…”

“Easy?” Hermione supplied with a wry smile.

“Yes,” he said. “I do want to apologize, though, for before. All of it, really.”

“I forgave you a long time ago,” she murmured, looking straight into his silver eyes. “It hit me when we escaped and were banged up. Laying in a bed all day, I had nothing better to do.”

“I can imagine,” he grimaced. “Nothing but Potter and Weasel for company? My brain would rot.”

“They aren’t that bad,” she chuckled, defending her friends. “Just… Passed out themselves for whatever reason. Let’s say, I did a lot of thinking about what happened and decided I couldn’t hate you for it.”

Honey met silver, their eyes assessing the other. Hermione held a carefully neutral expression, hands folded on her lap as she stared at Malfoy. She felt and meant what she said, and hoped that he would understand. His eyes searched her own, probing for any sign of deceit only to find none. With a great gulp, he turned his gaze away from her intense eyes. A hand ran through his blonde hair, barely able to contain what he felt.

“Thank you,” he whispered in a low, soft voice right as the bell rang.

For a moment, neither teen moved as the rest of the class scurried away from the room. He couldn’t make her out, nor was she having much luck either. She didn’t know exactly what he apologized for, nor how much, but she knew he bore her no ill will. At least, not like he used to. 

“No, thank you,” she smiled softly at him, a real smile this time. 

He stopped breathing as he saw it directed at him for the first time. How he had missed her, missed this, before, and just for blood, he never knew. However, Draco Malfoy promised himself to make the most of this opportunity. He vowed never to waste these precious second chances again.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~


	2. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor McGowan relates her class to the professors, who then pair Hermione and Draco in their classes, which leads to a lot of time spent together. In addition, Pansy and Neville succeed in uncovering the truth of Ron’s which leads to more story telling…

Kristin McGowan entered the staff meeting, smile scarily resembling that of the cheshire cat. Several professors watched her with wary eyes, unsure of what to make of the energetic young woman. As more of the faculty filtered into the room, their buzz of conversation rumbled around her.

“Now then,” the stern, Scottish voice of Headmistress McGonagall echoed through the room, “Thank you for attending today’s meeting. As you know, I have asked that we start project Unity as stated upon in Albus’ will..”

A tense, mournful moment followed the announcement. The older staff members still took the old headmaster’s death quiet hard, Kristin knew. Even the newer professors admired the old coot. 

“Very well, Kristin, I believe you were the first to start the upperclassmen on Project Unity,” Minerva continued with a sniff. “How did it go?”

A wide, self-satisfied smile broke out upon her face. “Surprisingly well, Professor. The 8th year students worked quite well together, especially my Gryffindor-Slytherin pairs.” A look of surprise broke out on the faces of several professors, the older ones she reckoned. “In fact, if I may, there are a few pairs that were particularly compatible. If I may be so bold, I suggest the continuance of their association in other classes as well.”

“Which pairs in particular, Kristin?” came McGonagall’s crisp question.

“Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger,” she grinned, eyes sparkling. 

Mutterings and murmurs broke out amongst the staff present. Many of the older professors couldn’t understand how that would work. They had been at each other’s throats since they were eleven. Hatred and prejudice had marked their sharp, mean conversations. However, the old Scottish woman peered at the young blonde critically.

“Are you quite sure?” Minerva asked, her quiet voice carrying above the crowd.

“If you will, headmistress, you brought me on as more than a Muggle Studies professor,” she beamed, “Psychology is one of my specialities, and I am telling you they will surprise everyone. I dare say, they already did so to my class.

“Do you know,” the young woman leaned forward, mischief in her eyes, “They were actually laughing and smirking at each other during my class? They relaxed for a time. It was amazing to witness, because otherwise they are quite….”

“Severe? Intimidating? Scary?” another new professor chimed in.

“Yes! Merlin, if you saw their faces when I started talking to them. I mean, you would have thought I was going to attack them,” she exhaled. 

“How did you go up to them, exactly?” the small Professor Flitwick asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“I kind of, you know, came up next to Miss Granger,” she stammered.

“As in surprising them?” the stony voice of the new defense teacher asked.

“Maybe?” she gulped. “I didn’t mean to! I just kind of happened. Neither of them saw me coming and they kind of stiffened up and stared at me like they wanted to do something…”

“Kristin, I know you were sheltered from the war since you were at Muggle university, but that is perhaps the most foolish thing you could have done,” Minerva grimaced, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You do know those children were taught to hex for pain, and perhaps, in Mister Malfoy’s case, to kill.”

“I know, I know, but I thought they’d see me or something,” she sighed.

“However,” the headmistress murmured to herself, “You said they get along? Laugh? Relax? Act like normal teenagers?”

“Yes, to the point of distracting half the class,” the young blonde nodded, impish smile on her face.

“Right, then here is what I want us to do…”

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

“Really Neville, it’s nothing,” Hermione once more sighed as she brushed her bushy hair out of her eyes. “You know Ron, he’s just busy. That’s all…”

“If you say so, ‘Mione,” Neville relented. He had tried, for the past week, to needle more information out of Hermione. “It just seems odd, since Harry’s coming and all.”

The first Hogsmead weekend scheduled for the year was Saturday, three days away. The 8th year students were allowed once every two weeks to visit the town. Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville planned on meeting some friends at the Three Broom Sticks for lunch, including Harry and Ron. Out of the blue, Ron owled Hermione that Monday, apologizing for being otherwise occupied. While she appeared fine with it, Ron could tell that, in reality, the news crushed her.

Grudgingly, Neville found the continued interactions between Hermione and Malfoy beneficial to both. They appeared happier, smiled more, and even laughed at times. The past few years put them through hell, and it appeared they found the light at the end of the tunnel. However, the fleeting contentment and happiness once more found itself squashed by a one Ron Weasley.

“And really, you think the professors could at least be subtle about their inter-house unity thing,” Hermione huffed at the end of a rant.

“I don’t think ‘subtle’ is what they’re going for, hermione,” Neville chuckled. “It’s not like I want to be with Pansy every class of every day. Though, she’s not that bad.”

“Shh! Don’t let others hear you, they may think you’re insane,” she grinned, a sparkle in her eye.

“Maybe they’ll take you to St. Mungo’s for enjoying a certain Slytherin’s company,” he teased.

She gasped, fake and outraged, eyes opened humorously wide before hitting the boy across from her. “Why I never, Neville Longbottom!”

They laughed and talked together, like normal teenagers, for the remainder of the meals. Amused and jovial voices bounced through the stone corridors, and Hermione forgot the angst of the morning. Winding her way to the dungeons, she sat at her lab table, setting out her quill and parchment before sticking her nose into a book.

Moments later, a low groan alerted her to the arrival of her term partner. The blonde muttered something about mornings and being more evil than a certain dark lord. A bubble of laughter escaped Hermione. The heat of a withering glare bored into her, and she didn’t care one bit.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Hermione chuckled. “Nice of you to join the land of the living.”

“What’s got you in such a good mood this morning, Granger,” groused the blonde.

“Probably too much sugar in my tea,” she shrugged, earning a chuckle from her companion. 

Neither noticed the pair to their left conversing quickly. Pansy and Neville watched, interest etched upon their features. After Monday, they watched their friends, and noticed how they began to change before their eyes. Their demeanors convinced Pansy that they were ‘meant to be,’ and, while Neville agreed they got on quite well, didn’t know how much of her opinion stemmed from the muggle romantic comedies she forced him to watch.

“Really now, when was the last time Draco, of all people, laughed in the morning,” Pansy whispered, leaning towards the brunette next to her.

“Dunno, but I can tell you that Ron will try to ruin it all. He’s a weird mixture of oblivious and possessive,” Neville muttered darkly. He told her the situation, and Pansy had pulled a few gossip contacts. “If what you’re saying is right, then he’s going to be breaking ‘Mione’s heart with _her._ Again.”

“What exactly happened last time?” Pansy inquired. “I didn’t exactly pay attention to Gryffindor affairs then.”

“Not much really,” Neville shrugged. “Ron never really saw Hermione as a girl, so he asked Lavender Brown out. He didn’t even realize what he did, and probably still doesn’t see what’s wrong with it.”

“Men,” Pansy muttered with an eye roll. “I’ll never know what they see in Weasel.”

“To be honest, I kind of agree,” Neville sighed. “You have no clue how many fights they have had, and how much Ron has made her cry. Honestly, I feel like the human handkerchief half the of the time.”

“Then, in your opinion, why him?” Pansy tilted her head to the side. “I can’t imagine wanting a man who knows only how to tick me off and make me cry.”

“I think only Hermione knows the answer to that question,” Neville shrugged as Slughorn swept into the room.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

The weekend passed by in a pleasant blur. Hermione accompanied Ginny and Luna to lunch, enjoying the carefree manner and feeling. They felt like kids again, and what did she care of Ron wasn’t there? Or that Harry shot her weird glanced and looks whenever she joked or burst out laughing? 

As he was leaving, Harry pulled her aside to talk, ask how she was doing. Hermione told him the truth, about classes and projects, her perpetual partnership with Malfoy in classes. It wasn’t until she got to her last point that something felt off to the Gryffindor.

“I’m just sad that Ron couldn’t make it, you know?” Hermione sighed. “It feels like the war never happened, and we’re nothing but teenagers.”

“Y-yeah, Ron not making it,” Harry nodded after a moment, his green eyes unreadable at that moment. “I’m sure he would have enjoyed being here with us.”

Hermione nodded and agreed, logging the odd expression on her friend’s face. Sadness and distress marked his features, but, she reasoned, he must be worried about their struggling relationship. Especially since Harry often found himself in the middle. She smiled, bright and sunny, before making off to the castle once more.

Monday morning dawned, and suddenly Harry’s behavior the Saturday prior made sense. Plastered on the front page of the Prophet was Ronald Bilius Weasley, very clearly next to Zonko’s. Which may not have been horrible, if it weren’t for the fact that the photograph caught him unaware in a particularly compromising position with a certain blonde.

A hush went through the hall, students and staff watching the girl with bated breath. Instead of the carefree Hermione, the instant she saw the headline, **GOLDEN COUPLE APART FOR GOOD?** , the war veteran sat in the seat. Eyes as hard as flint, posture rigid and stiff, she spoke to no one. Her eyes found Lavender Brown, boring into the girl. She whimpered at the stony, emotionless face.

She stood up, walked towards the buxom girl at the end of the table, rage and hate rolling off of her in waves. Before her, students cowered and moved to make way for her. Lavender balked and cowered, unable to run.

“Fool me once, shame on you,” Hermione hissed, soft and commanding. “Fool me twice, shame on me. You will no longer make a fool of me.”

She turned on her heel and stalked out the Great Hall, heading towards the dungeon. She could no longer stand the insufferable and inconsequential conversations, mostly about her. At lunch, she would question others, see who knew, send a letter to her two time ex-boyfriend, and then distract herself. If she didn’t, Hermione shuddered, she would break down in front of everyone. That was not acceptable.

So she sat, in her stool, for over an hour, scribbling notes and writing in a journal. Parchment and ink in front of her bent head, she didn’t even notice the rest of the class filtering in, nor did she see the various expressions of pity and blatant curiosity. With a grunt, Draco sat beside her. He watched her, expression guarded and neutral, as she packed up her work and fixed her eyes forward. However, never did he ask her how she was. In fact, he didn’t talk to her unless necessary or she started it.

Throughout the day, she found that trait and innate knowledge of when to leave her alone invaluable. Questions, both direct and implied, pelted her throughout the next few weeks. As she drowned in the ocean of work, students began to finally leave he alone. Sure, the howler she sent Ron, angry owls to Harry, and scathing conversations with Ginny and Luna burned in her memory. At the end of the day, she found working with the stoic Slytherin a balm and anchor, oddly enough.

By mid October, Hermione found herself quite in control and beginning to recover from the blatant betrayal by her friends. Not that she dropped her grudge against a certain red-head or his blonde lover, but she reasoned with herself. The decline of their relationship started well before the Prophet article. It merely sped up the process. 

A crisp morning found Hermione sitting in the library inside the restricted section. Through a diplomatic appeal through the headmistress, Hermione got all 8th years the privilege of unlimited access to the books there. For, she reasoned, they had all learned and lived through much worse than what they could find in those books.

She watched the dark waves of the lake lap uno the surface. Memories assaulted her mind, their stolen kisses and caresses during the first few days later the battle, during the rebuilding. Their jokes and pranks, the visits to Hagrid, and it just became too much for her. In the safe, little nook, she finally allowed herself to cry.

Time flowed around her, a humorless chuckle as she recalled the theory of relativity. A white piece of clothe hovered in front of her face, sudden and startling. Hermione started, hand on her wand, eyes darting with calculated practice, only to notice Draco Malfoy holding out a square piece of cloth. 

“Don’t do that,” she sighed, wiping her eyes. “I was about to hex you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he chuckled, sitting across the table from here. “it just looked like you could use this.” He shrugged with careless boredom and tossed the handkerchief to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the silence, awkward by his unexpected kindness.

“I don’t know why you care so much for the git,” he muttered after a moment of silence.

“Sometimes, I don’t even know why,” she shrugged. 

Over the past month and a half, she and Malfoy developed a friendship based on understanding. Their forced time together only strengthen said bond, as both were amused by their professor’s thinly veiled attempts at showing how enemies from different houses could get along. Even through the break up, he remained one of the only people Hermione felt comfortable around, a rather surreal situation to the girl.

“I recall asking about a journal and the chamber of secrets,” Malfoy suddenly said, snapping Hermione back to reality. “We are supposed to be working on mysteries, why don’t you explain about some of your… adventures?”

“Are you sure you want to know,” Hermione chuckled, wet but amused. “It may shock you what we have done.”

“I don’t know,” Malfoy answered, a small smirk upon his face. “Maybe your little hero antics are nothing special.”

“Really then?” Hermione arched her brow. She unconsciously wiping the remaining moisture from her eyes with the offered piece of monographed cloth. “You remember the journal your father slipped Gin before second year?”

“Black and ratty, right?” he responded, leaning back in his chair. He’d never admit it to anyone, but a surge of warmth and satisfaction flooded the blonde Slytherin. Finally, someone broke through her stony grief wall, and it had been him. “What of it?”

“Do you know what a horocrux is?” Hermione continued, laughing at the look of disgust and self righteousness on Malfoy’s aristocratic features.

“You pick up a few things living with the devil for over a year,” he muttered darkly. “Wait… You mean that journal was… And that Weaslette was possessed by _him_?”

“Five points for Slytherin,” Hermione grinned. “Well, we didn’t know what it was, mind you. I researched all I could, and well, I was almost too late, really. Learned it was a basilisk and all, but that’s not the good part.”

“Oh?” Draco arched a blonde eyebrow.

“Not at all. I guess you can say I found my favorite chair in one of the colder places in the castle, right in front of a nice roaring fire,” She continued, obvious glee and mischief in her eyes. “Beautifully upholstered, black leather, marvelous chaise really. The silver accents were especially well done.”

Draco wracked his brain, since the description of said chair registered in his mind. Where had he… Well, the first answer would be his common room, but then again, what did she know of Slytherin common room?How would she have….

“You didn’t…” he murmured, eyes snapping back to her smug face. “How did you even?”

“I may or may not have brewed polyjuice potion in Myrtle’s bathroom,” she smirked at his expression, part mystified, part amused, and part astonished. “And I may or may not have given some to Harry and Ron. Afterwards, I may or may not have taken it myself and snuck in just to confirm their information.”

She leaned back in the chair, all thoughts of her previous anguish gone from her mind. Instead, she watched with glee at the scandalized face of Malfoy. Rarely did his mask collapse so completely, and Hermione enjoyed every moment of it, oddly satisfied to have caused it. His mouth worked, opening and closing, as she saw his mental gears churning. 

“Impossible,” he murmured. “Polyjuice? At what, tweleve, thirteen?” 

“Why, my dear Mister Malfoy, if I didn’t know any better, you could be a broken record,” she grinned like the cheshire cat.

“Bloody hell, Granger,” he shook his head, “How did I beat out your potions scores?”

“Believe me, I’ve been asking the same question,” she sighed to which he laughed. 

“Well, aren’t you more snake then you let on,” he smirked at her, appreciating the young woman in front of him. “Would have made good, old Salazar proud.”

“It’s not that bad,” she blushed at the compliment.

“Really, Granger?” his smirk grew even wider. “I know you tried to hide and then give away a baby dragon in first year, and now I hear you got the three of you into Slytherin common room by brewing a heavily regulated potion? Tell me, how did you exactly get all the ingredients? Last I heard, second years don’t have access to boomslang skin.”

Positively flushed, Hermione muttered the answer, unable to meet the blonde’s gaze. She fiddled with the hem of her jumper, glancing around the room.

“I’m sorry, didn’t catch that,” Malfoy grinned, far too amused for Hermione’s liking.

“I may or may not have gone into Snape’s personal stores and kind of, sort of, nicked them,” she said in a rush, face beet red.

Draco Malfoy laughed. For the first time, since Hermione knew the young man across from her, she heard him truly relaxed. She stared, pink with blush, and noticed the changes. She always knew he was handsome, hell, he knew it too. Yet, for some reason, seeing him so unrestrained and happy, caught in the moment, Hermione couldn’t help herself. He looked absolutely angelic. Perfect.

She swung her head to the side, avoiding his eyes as he calmed down from the laugh attack. Reading her shy and embarrassed posture to be from the laughing. 

“I never knew you had it in you, Granger,” he chortled on. “All these years, I wondered why the hat didn’t put you in Ravenclaw. Now, I don’t know why you didn’t join the snake pit.”

“Oh, shut it Malfoy,” she muttered, refusing to look at him.

“Aw, is Granger all embarrassed that she isn’t as good as everyone thinks she is,” he teased, eyes filled with mirth. “Maybe I’ll ask Slughorn to make you an honorary Slytherin. I’m sure he’d jump at the chance.”

“Professor, Malfoy,” she sniffed and sighed.

“Come on now, I know he wants you to call him Horace,” he grinned. “Wants to be nice and chummy with the Golden Girl.”

“Well, if you insist of teasing me, then I won’t tell you anymore stories,” she huffed, crossing her arms to face the blonde. “Or better yet, I’ll drag you to Slug Club and then leave you.”

“Anything but that,” mocking horror upon his face.

“They are horrendous,” she sighed. “Old sycophant is having another one in a couple weeks, too. I’m trying to see if the Headmistress could get me out of it.”

“And you say you’re not Slytherin,” Malfoy chuckled once more and ducked from the oncoming object chucked his way.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

Pansy and Neville stood mystified as they followed the sounds of laughter. While looking for a quiet spot in the library to project the latest film, _Sleepless in Seattle_ much to Neville’s chagrin, the tinkling sound found their ears. Entranced, the pair moved as quickly as stealth allowed. The scene they found could not have surprised them more.

“Really? We’re in a library, Ferret,” Hermione exclaimed, laughing and twitching. 

“It’s your fault,” gasped the blonde across the table, nursing his arm. “That hex hurt!”

“That’s the point, prat,” she laughed out a counter curse and took a few, deep breaths. 

“Then you shouldn’t be chucking your precious library books,” he countered, smiling all the while.

“Then you shouldn’t have teased me,” she retorted, sticking her tongue out in a childish manner.

“Real mature, Granger,” he chuckled.

“Oh, and you’re the scion on maturity now,” she rolled her eyes, grin on her face.

“Obviously, didn’t you know, Malfoys are nothing but mature,” he puffed out.

Hermione raised her brow at him. They dissolved into laughing once they made eye contact though. The girl clutched her sides, while the boy thumped the table with his hand. Neither seemed to notice the other pair of students watching them with evident confusion and astonishment.

“Is this real,” Neville murmured to the shorter woman in front of him.

“Merlin above, I hope it is,” Pansy answered with a shake of her head. “You do know what this means, right?”

“You could probably make a chick flick out of this right here,” Neville grudgingly agreed. “Merlin knows they’ve had enough repressed sexual tension between them for years now.”

“I have every intention of making it come true,” she grinned. “Now, I think we should go somewhere else. This is getting a bit too personal to watch comfortably.”

Indeed, the scene before Neville could have jumped out from one of his Gran’s novels. They had finally reigned in their laughter, and had taken to peering into the other’s eyes. Both appeared calm, sober, and quite infatuated from a third party point of view. In fact, if Neville didn’t know them, he’d think they were together. A faint blush crept upon Hermione’s face, and she swung her head to the side, shy and embarrassed. Yep, definitely more personal than he’d like to witness. 

“Come on,” he sighed. “Might as well watch that ruddy movie.”

With a bounce and a smile, Pansy skipped the opposite direction. Neville scowled at the girl, thinking of the hell that will break lose once the pair they left finally got together. _Ron is really not going to like this…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This is taking a while. I loved the first chapter, and how I gave Hermione a hard edged feel. Time to soften her a bit, and yay Dramione fluff! I hope you all enjoy!


	3. Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron pays an unexpected trip to Hogwarts, causing all hell to break loose. With a newfound purpose, a plan brews to get back at the red-head.

The month of October passed quietly. Hermione recovered from the break up with Ron better than most could imagine. Those closest to her knew that, while ‘over it,’ she still held a grudge. Quiet and cold, she would wait for the perfect moment to get her revenge and justice. Little did she know that the perfect opportunity would present itself.

“Remind me again why I teased you about Slug Club,” a disgruntled Malfoy groaned as he settled at their desk for Defense.

“Dunno, probably thought you were witty or something,” she smirked.

Hermione had convinced Slughorn to admit Draco into the Slug Club. Having never been a part of the ‘prestigious’ gathering, he held cautious hope. Little did he know the head splitting politics and formalities of the party. Hermione smirked and chuckled at parts of the night, amused by his antics and distress. 

“If nothing else, it forms excellent contacts,” Hermione continued as she sat next to the blonde. 

Moments later, Professor Ixley, the new Defense teacher, strode into the classroom. He surveyed the group of young adults around him, and grinned. Most of the students who caught the expression groaned. A grinning Ixley was not a good sign. Before anyone could ask what their torture would be, he clapped his hands to quiet the class.

“For the next two weeks, we shall be going over dueling,” the class perked at his baritone as he announced, with little preamble. “I know many of you, if not all of you, are familiar with this form of combat. We shall focus on using legal spells, their uses, and the different strategies one may employ to ensure victory.”

An excited murmur broke out within the class. Hermione narrowed her honey eyes at the man before her. In his mid-forties, wrinkles and grays decorated his otherwise strong jaw and face. She watched with astute closeness, mistrusting of the glee in his eyes.

“There’s a catch,” Malfoy murmured, warm breath tickling her ear. 

She glanced up, noticing his calculating grey eyes upon the man, every bit as wary as her. “I don’t trust him.”

“You shouldn’t,” he snorted.

“Now then, class,” the professor once more boomed catching the attention of the class once more. “For the next week, we shall do a preliminary dueling tournament. Single elimination, with a consolation bracket. All classes, fifth year and up, will be participating. In addition, we shall be collaborating with the first year trainees for the Auror program.”

Hermione went stiff, unaware of a few silent, sympathetic glances. Besides her, Malfoy cast a worried, sidelong glance. He nudged her shoulder, jolting Hermione out of whatever trance she found herself. She gave a sharp, wide-eyed glance at the man next to her. She gulped and nodded. This would be the first time since before Hogwarts, before the break up, Hermione would see Ron.

Professor Ixley droned on about proper dueling form, continuing their theory of dueling lesson. She took notes, absently and distracted. By the end of class, she stared at the words on her parchment without recalling ever writing them down. She sighed and started to load her satchel once more only to have someone place a hand on her shoulder. Looking behind her, she saw Malfoy, a concerned gaze fixed on her.

“It’ll be alright, you know,” he murmured for her to hear.

“Y-yeah, I do,” she replied, fighting to keep the blush off her cheeks. “It will just be hard at first. I’ve barely talked to even Harry or Gin since it happened.”

“They deserve it,” he shrugged, still watching her, though she wasn’t so sure. 

“Well, at the very least, it’s an acceptable format to hex Ronald and his little lover into oblivion,” Hermione growled, her thoughts taking a much darker turn for the moment.

“That’s the spirit Granger,” Malfoy smirked at her. “I don’t know about you, but I rather not get detention from the Dragon. Just because you’re her little apprentice doesn’t mean she won’t harp on me.”

Hermione chuckled and began the ascent, joining Pansy and Neville somewhere along the line. The four chatted amiably as they made their way to the first floor classroom. Hermione found the Slytherin girl an excellent companion. She enjoyed her sharp wit and keen observations, making Hermione laugh more than she had in a long time.

“And did you see her face,” Pansy snorted, continuing a story. “I swear she pissed herself when they announced it.”

“She’s probably hoping Professor Ixley doesn’t put us together,” Hermione snorted in return.

“I would pay to see that,” Pansy chuckled as they continued down the hallway.

“Really, though, I almost envy the fifth and sixth years,” Hermione shook her head after a moment, “Merlin knows I’ll be tempted to use some less than legal spells.”

“I know what you mean,” the other girl sighed dramatically. “Though, there are some really fun applications of normal spells…”

“Oi! Granger,” Malfoy called as he caught up to her, Neville on the other side of Pansy, “What is this I hear about dark spells? Doesn’t that go against your golden moral compass?”

“You should be one to talk,” she jibed with a grin. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”

“How very Slytherin of you,” he smirked in return.

She sent a good natured wink at the blonde’s amused expression before the four broke out laughing. Ginny watched the quartet waltz through the first floor, making their way to the Transfiguration classroom. Hermione offered the redhead a small, hesitant smile before slipping away. Only a few days prior, she had sent Harry an owl and talked to Luna and Ginny. She wanted her normal friends back, though they would never be what they once were. However, neither girl wanted to take the plunge into the dividing factor: Ron.

Transfiguration this year proved to be quite interesting. No one knew what the Headmistress would be teaching them, but animagus transformations were not the expected curriculum. Hermione knew that very few, if any, of the students would ever be able to fully transform, but she decided that she would be one of those. _Perhaps,_ a sly thought slinked through her mind, _she’d even be an unregistered animagus. It certainly provided several advantages._

In preparation for these, they were given homework to meditate in hopes of finding their inner animal. Professor McGonagall told them that their patronus does not always correlate into their animal forms. Often enough, they are not one and the same. Classes centered around theory and practice of human transfiguration in preparation of their own. 

That day in class, they were instructed to meditate and to write down any odd, animalistic urges or thoughts. Hermione purchased a journal just for this purpose on her first visit to Hogsmeade. At the end of class, she stared at her notes, frustrated. The list grew every time she concentrated, and today was no exception. In addition to hunting and wanting to run through the forest, she swore she had a tail and big ears if the splitting headache was anything to go by. Every sound, small and large, echoed and pierced through her mind. 

“Could you breathe any harder, Malfoy?” she grumbled as class came to a close. She laid her head upon the cool desk, hoping to relieve some of the pain. “Merlin, everything hurts.”

“Be ears, much?” he smirked beside her. “All the better to hear with, I’m sure.”

“Something with sharp, pointy teeth hopefully,” she shot him a playful glare. “All the better to bite you with.”

“Now, now, Granger,” he chuckled, “I never you liked it like that.”

“Oh shut it,” she flopped over, a small smile on her face.

“Hermione, there’s someone outside for you,” Neville’s voice came to her.

“Who?” she tensed, slowly sitting up to face the boy - _no, man now_ \- next to her. When he didn’t answer, Hermione fixed a hard stare upon him. “Who is it, Neville?”

“It’s R-Ron,” he stuttered, suddenly accosted by twin glares. “I told him he couldn’t be here, and even told the Headmistress about it, but he’s not going away. He insists on seeing you. I’m going to warn you, it’s not pretty.”

Hermione swore under her breath, shoving notes and her journal back. Not only did she still feel the effects of whatever mammalian creature lurked within her soul, but the growing icy, rage began to melt. Behind her, Draco and Neville shared a glance before going after her. Pansy and Ginny joined them outside the Entrance Hall. 

All the while, Hermione’s mind whirled. What could he want now? A month after he was ousted by the media? It had been three weeks since the last owl between them, where she made herself perfectly clear. No longer that lovestruck girl from sixth year, Hermione found steely resolution. If Ron could not accept her, all her scars and lumps, nightmares and changes, that was his loss. She will emerge stronger.

“Ginny, did you know he’d be coming today,” Hermione heard herself ask the ginger Gryffindor to her left.

“No, ‘Mione,” her hair shook. “I told him to let you move on. Ever since Lavender let it drop that you and Malfoy were friends, he’s been irate.”

“It’s none of his business who I am around,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Believe me, I told him as much,” Ginny grumbled, obviously unhappy.

As the group burst out of the hall, angry shouts swirled upon the wind. On the hill below them, Hermione watched Harry pull Ron back by his shoulders. The red-head shouted vile language at the professor, McGowan by the looks of things. Harry tried his best to appease and calm his best friend. The sunny Muggle Studies professor tried to calm down the young man in front of her, her body stiff as a board all a long.

“I don’t bloody care what they are saying,” Ron’s snarl reached her ears as Hermione walked closer, the two young men unaware of her proximity. “I need to talk to Hermione, NOW!”

“As I’ve explained, Mister Weasley, you are not allowed into the castle unless you are on official business. As it is, the Headmistress is being generous allowing you to wait on the grounds for Miss Granger,” McGowans friendly soprano shook.

“Why the hell not?” he screeched. “I saved this fucking school just a few months ago, being able to go in should be my right! Just get out of the way before I hex you into oblivion so I can talk-“

“Really, Ronald, I always knew your manners were atrocious, but this is a new low,” Hermione cooly observed, piercing the boy with her eyes. “Accosting professors at the school you tried to save? Honestly, what were you hoping to achieve? Ruining any future career you may have?”

“‘Mione,” he breathed. “Merlin, I’ve missed you much.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same,” she ground out, keeping her temper in check. “How dare you say you _miss_ me?”

“Are you really going to let that little thing with Lav get in between us?” the boy asked, beginning to advance upon her. “She means nothing, it means nothing. Hermione, we were meant to be.”

Everyone held their breath, unsure of how this encounter would proceed. Hermione watched her ex-boyfriend, eyes calculating and cold. Her churning and sprinting through thoughts a mile a minute. The ungrateful, egotistical jerk! The size of his head astonished Hermione, and disgust for the person in front of her grew by the moment. He obviously hadn’t noticed, as Harry had, the people surrounding her. 

Professor McGowan retreated to the side, watching with rapt attention. Behind her, Pansy and Ginny tried to keep Neville and Draco back from taking a swing at the boy. While Harry received frequent updates on his best friend’s situation, Ron knew nothing of how she had shut out everyone around her for weeks. He never knew the pain he inflicted upon her, thought it was acceptable, and that epiphany almost knocked Hermione over.

“You think I want to take you back,” she hissed at Ron, her knuckles now white. “You slimy, egotistical-“

“Now, now, Mione,” Ron tried to reason with her, ignoring everyone. “I know you don’t actually mean that. Once your temper breaks, you’ll regret everything you said. You always do.”

“I can’t believe how arrogant and infuriating you are, Ronald Bilius Weasley,” she snarled, watching his unperturbed expression. “Don’t tell me you would take me back if you found out I cheated on you.”

“Well, there’s no trouble of that, is there?” Ron shrugged, convincing himself of the situation. He knew Hermione wouldn’t be mad at him forever, nor would she just dump him. “You’d never cheat on me. It’s not the lady-like thing to do.”

“Oh? So you’re allowed to sleep around behind my back, but I’m not allowed similar liberties, simply because I’m a woman?” her eye blazed to life, temper finally cracking. “You chauvinistic, over-confident, disgusting piece of dragon dung!”

Every word, a hex flew out the tip of her wand, Ron dodging and twisting from the bright, vibrant blazes of light flying towards him. His eyes widened, finally realizing that he had said a bit too much. Sure, Hermione was proud of many of things, being a muggle-born amongst them. Each spell reminded him of her great pride in being a powerful witch in her own right. 

“Now, now, Hermione, I know that you are upset,” he began.

“And don’t even think I didn’t see that piece of shit book on how to get into a witch’s knickers last year after you up and bloody left Harry and me,” she shrieked, a violet spell flying past Ron’s ear. “All that time, I thought you had started to change! Actually expand your emotional range from that of a teaspoon! Imagine my surprise finding _that_ one night while cleaning the tent.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” he gulped, backing up a few steps. “Really, I just don’t know how to relate to witches well. And Lavender-“ an audible groan came from Harry as he stepped aside to shield Professor McGowan. Hermione swore she could hear Malfoy roll his eyes, Ginny shake her head, and even Pansy smirk. “- She’s not the kind of girl you marry and make a future with. You are, babe. I just wanted some fun before we settled down and had babies. I mean, not that that won’t be fun, but we wouldn’t go out as much, and well, you’d always be taking care of them-“

Ron never finished his vision of the future for Hermione and himself. Instead, a resounding crunch echoed through the now silent grounds. Students had taken to a semi-ring behind Hermione, gasping at the sight before them. Their Golden Girl threw a left hook at the red haired boy, obviously breaking _something_. Whether it be her hand or his jaw, no one knew at the moment. 

“You bitch,” he shrieked like a girl, finally whipping out his wand. “You absolute, little harpy! Who the fuck do you think you are? Punching me?!”

“Your worst nightmare,” she whispered, low and dangerous. “Never forget, Ronald, I know you better than you do yourself. You better watch your back next week, and pray to any of the gods you believe in you don’t get me.”

She turned sharply on her heel, marching back up the slope to the castle. She looked resolutely in front of her, ignoring the hurt boy behind her. She knew his temper had broken, that he would never just let it be, and she was glad for that part of his temper for once.

“You fucking slag,” he bellowed, storming behind her. “You want to know what? No one will ever want you? Who the hell would be crazy to want to be stuck with you? You’re lucky I was even interested! How many guys asked you out since you got here? Two, if you count McCormac? You’re bloody pathetic, Hermione.

“No one likes a know-it-all, prude with a lion’s mane for hair,” he spat. His hand grasped her arm, squeezing it hard as he spun her to face him. His face now matched his hair, a fine shade of puce if Hermione were to be asked. “You are a prude who loves nothing but books. I dreaded having to sleep with you! You have no sexuality, you’re barely feminine, and your temper is worse than a hippogriff’s. Be thankful someone took pity on your miserable self, otherwise you would have faced the troll yourself! I only became your friend because I felt sorry for your ass.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide at the insinuation. Everything faded away, every word sinking in more than it should. Dammit, she built this wall during the war, the past month, for a reason! Bricks of indifference fell around her, as each word progressively made her feel worse than before. She would not cry in front of this miserable excuse of a human being. She would not break down, she refused. She was stronger than that. At least, Hermione told herself that. She didn’t even notice his grip bruising her. Voices floated around her, she could feel someone trying to separate them, and she shook her head.

“Weasley, I know your parents taught some of your siblings something resembling manners,” Malfoy drawled behind her, “but your’s are deplorable. Didn’t they teach you to never hurt a lady?”

“She’s a fucking whore, not some high class lady,” he snarled, yanking on her.

“Potter, get this piece of shit away from here before I do something I regret,” Malfoy commanded the other trainee. “I barely avoided Azkaban last summer. I don’t want to give them reason to throw me in there.”

“Merlin knows how you slithered yourself out of that,” Ron sneered at the blonde, “You tortured and killed, hell even plotted against Dumbledore. Give me reason to lock you away, Ferret, I dare you.”

“Someone now,” he ground out, still trying to pry Hermione away from the raging ginger.

“Ronald,” Ginny exclaimed as she recovered from the scene before her. She ran up and caught him by the small hairs of his neck. “I cannot believe what you just did! You blithering idiot!”

His vice grip released Hermione as Ginny pulled her brother along, shouting something to the professor as she made her way outside of school boundaries. The moment they stepped outside the gates, the pair disappeared, most likely to the Burrow, and life seemed to reanimate around her. People were too loud, talking too much, hearing too much. Hermione could barely register the past half hour. 

Headmistress McGonagall stormed out of the castle, talking to the other students around. She heard people talk and answer her questions. However, when it was her turn, she stared numbly at her mentor, barely registering her words. Ron’s painful words swirled around her mind, clenching around her heart. She thought she was beyond this pain, this hurt, that he bestowed upon her. Obviously not.

“Take her to the hospital wing,” Minerva nodded at the Slytherin behind Hermione. “Keep her there. Tell Poppy she needs a calming draught and probably some dreamless sleep.”

Her feet traced the path through the castle, never truly observing where she walked. Even within the hospital wing, she barely responded to anything or anyone. She felt her clothes being changed, cotton sheets being pulled over her, a warm, comforting hand gripping her own. Her mind refused to recognize and analyze, though. Out of habit, she drank the potions the matron gave her and, within moments, blissful darkness consumed her.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

Draco Malfoy sat in an uncomfortable, wood chair next to Hermione’s bed. Long fingers brushing a curl from her face, as his mind flew back to the scene before. He could not believe how cruel her supposed best friend had been. Even he had standards when it came to women. A shudder ran through his body at the thought of Narcissa Malfoy so much as imagining him treating a lady in that way.

Murmurs and whispers ran rampant around the castle, half the school watched the ‘epic showdown’ between Hermione and the Weasel. He could care less what they thought, but preferred if that strip down could have been done in private. That’s the least she deserved, Draco thought, his thumb tracing soothing patterns atop her newly fixed knuckles.

“Ron has always been a git,” Neville sighed after the door shut. “I’ve told you before, this isn’t the first time Ron has up and left after insulting her.” 

“That freckled freak has done this before,” Pansy hissed.

Despite his uncaring manner, Draco knew of the friendship that bloomed between Pansy and Hermione. After their term assignments were assigned, Neville and Pansy took to studying with them. The girls hit it off during an animagus debate. He knew that Pansy didn’t have many friends she could trust, much like him, and any that she made she held precious. Slytherins would double-cross an acquaintance or alliance if it benefitted them. Those not associated with the House never realized how fiercely loyal they were to those that they deemed worthy. Pansy definitely deemed Hermione as such, making Draco glad. He thought of Pansy like a sister, and she deserved to have a genuine friend.

“Ron’s aura is often times troubled,” the dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood remarked. Pulling the curtain aside, the three students came next to her bed. “I think it is the snarglebacks that are attracted to it. They tend to make people quite aggressive.”

“Shut the curtains, would you,” Draco drawled, flicking his eyes at the new comers before continuing his vigil. “And put up something, silencio or muffliato, whatever works.”

Luna went about warding the area about the bed as Pansy conjured a few chairs and a table for them. They muttered greetings, asking how she had been, what injuries Ron gave her, and Draco answered each as concisely as possible. She was fine now, asleep and calm after a few potions and spells. She broke right knuckles and received a hairline fracture on her left humerus. Pansy shook with rage at the news, spitting curses that made Neville blush. 

“That unmitigated ass,” she finished her string of obscenities.

“Longbottom,” Draco asked, lifting his eyes from Hermione’s sleeping form. “You know their dynamic the best. What’s happening?”

“I knew you’d ask this,” the other man sighed, running a hand through his hair. He aged at least ten years at once, pensive and thoughtful. “Harry, Ron, and Hermione have this amazing yet awful friendship between them. The way it started was unconventional. You remember Quirrell first year?” Nods from Draco and Pansy answered him.

“Ah, it was a year before you came, Luna,” Neville recalled. “Well, he was the DADA professor, but was possessed by Voldemort.” Luna’s eyes went wide as she continued to listen, “Well, he let in a troll on Halloween.” 

“I remember that,” Pansy mused, leaning back in her chair. “What that’s got to do with Hermione?”

“Well, after Transfiguration that day, she overheard Ron insulting her,” Neville sighed, rubbing his face. Draco barely contained a snarl. “So she went to the nearest bathroom in the dungeons, which so happened to be the one where the troll went. Harry felt bad and so they chased it. Long story short, they knocked out the troll before it could kill Hermione, and _she_ took the fall.”

“Shit,” Pansy whispered, looking at her friend. 

“So, Let me get this straight,” Draco growled, “Weasley literally told her to her face that he should have let her die?”

“Yes. That is the microcosm of their relationship throughout the years,” Neville shook his head. “Third year, they thought she was against them and snubbed her for almost a month. Fourth year, Ron turned on Harry and Hermione when Crouch made Harry a champion. Not to mention insulted her to her face about being a girl before _and_ during the Yule Ball. Sixth year, Ron dated Lavender, breaking her heart. Last year, well, he abandoned them on their depressing camping trip.”

“Why?” Pansy asked, perking up with interest. 

“They were carrying a horocrux, and each took turns,” Luna murmured, watching Hermione. “They had to wear the cursed locket, and it whispered horrible things to each of them while they wore it, and haunted them when they didn’t.”

“So she decided it was a good idea to date the prick?” Draco rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “Merlin, I thought she was supposed to be the brightest witch of our age.”

“She’s great with logic. The problem is that emotions are rarely logical,” Neville sighed. “You see, they always fight and then something happens and they make up. I’m guessing that right now, Mrs. Weasley is having a, erm, _talk_ with Ron.”

“And by ‘talk’ he means she’s ranting at him for being an ass,” Luna provided with a nod. “Most likely a few hours long, knowing Molly. He’ll be mollified at the least.”

“At least it’s not just my mom,” Draco muttered, earning a giggle from Pansy.

“Harry is probably talking things over with Ginny,” Neville continued, “Judging by what he was saying to McGonagall, he’s probably bloody pissed at Ron. I give him until tomorrow night to be here apologizing and groveling for Hermione’s forgiveness, Ginny pulling him by the ear if she needs to.”

“If nothing else,” Luna interjected, “You can be assured that Ron is surrounded by very strong women in his life, and all of them are extremely unhappy with him right now. I heard Lavender crying as I came from Ravenclaw tower.”

“So,” Pansy began after a moment of silence, “Do you think something will happen to make her forgive him this time?”

“I bloody well hope not,” Neville muttered darkly. “Hermione changed during the war, and afterwards, I’d be surprised if she lets him in ever again, to be honest.”

They sat in silence, contemplating what they were to do. Draco knew that as soon as Hermione regained herself, she would want to do something, anything, to get back at that asshole. He planned to help her as much as humanly possible, and that’s when a thought struck her. The duels next week would include the Auror trainees, meaning the Weasel would be there. An evil grin broke out upon his face.

“Oh no,” Pansy groaned at the look on the blonde’s face. “I know that look. What are you planning now?” 

“Why Pansy, why ever would you think I am planning something?” he smirked at her, eyes alight. “But now that you mention it, I do believe I have an idea.”

“Sweet Salazar, don’t let his be a daft one,” Pansy muttered. “I don’t want any of you in Azkaban. Now, spit it out, Draco.”

“Of course, m’lady,” he grinned once more adding a half bow, scaring even Neville. “You know the duels next week, and how we are supposed to be using legal spells. Well, what if we made a list of every spell we know, go through our school books of the past, and put together a list of all spells that would be considered ‘legal’ no matter how questionable they may be.”

Neville stared at him as if he were a hydra, mouth gaping open. Pansy snickered beside him, conjuring another table, parchment, quills, and books. Luna studied Draco, pensive expression hiding any other emotion the girl may have had. He chuckled as Pansy described it as the most appropriate way to get revenge.

“After all, if we didn’t do this, I’m sure Hermione would have,” she chuckled. “Weasley will never know what hit him. This is so Hermione.” 

Together the four went to work. Hours passed, finding them all deep in parchment, a mixture of spell and law books, when Headmistress McGonagall and Madame Pomfery found them. They glanced at each other, not quite sure what to make of this scene. However, duty won out, and Poppy herded the students out of her ward before their extended curfew. She promised them reports and updates as the situation dictated, and yes, they could visit her tomorrow. 

They stood to leave, Pansy banishing the extra furniture and books as the others cleaned up their mess. Luna and Neville removed their wards, talking to each other in hushed tones as they left. Draco watched them, placing a letter addressed to Hermione, explaining what happened after she zoned out as well as their plans, before he stood to leave. Still holding her hand, he leaned forward and placed a hesitant, light kiss upon her brow before walking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was originally supposed to be a bit different. However, I like how it turned out. I liked making Draco a bit more protective and affectionate than before. I feel like it is a nice progression. He feels like he should be protecting her when she can’t do so herself. She took charge and went after Ron, but needed someone to support her because I made Ron an ass. He tends to do that when he’s ticked off, though. 
> 
> Important to note: I listened to ‘girl power’ songs while writing this chapter. It may or may not be apparent to those reading.


	4. A Whole New Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New emotions emerge from the ashes of the previous day, as Draco visits Hermione in the Hospital Wing. Now, when Hermione wakes up, she is caught unaware by her own mind and emotions.

Hermione awoke the next morning, the clock next to her glaring an obnoxious hour. _Really? I can’t sleep just an hour more?_ She sighed, knowing that, despite it being half five in the morning, she would be getting no more sleep. She leaned back in the stiff, cotton sheets of the Hospital Wing. Events from yesterday flitted past her mind’s eye, causing her heart to contract.

Physical and emotional pain pulsed through her body, as she tried not to cry, not to freak out. How old would she have to be to not let Ron Weasley hurt her? Really, there had to be an end to his cruelty and childish antics, right? His immaturity? However, as those questions passed through her mind, she knew the answer. No. He would never be able to grow out of those habits, not now. She indulged him too much as they grew up. Every fight, every spat, she forgave him, sometimes rather easily, despite the pain he put her through. Yesterday only highlighted those problems.

He honestly thought she would go back to him. Believed it with all of his heart that she would become the next Molly Weasley. Not that there was anything wrong with the Weasley Matriarch, but that would never be Hermione’s ideal. How Ron could think that baffled Hermione. She thought that past seven years meant something more than that. She thought he started to mature, began to understand her. How wrong she had been. 

Glancing around, she noticed cards and candies from well wishers. A thick envelope of parchment penned in a familiar, flowing hand. Hermione reached out, curious as to what Draco Malfoy hand obviously taken quite a bit of time putting together.

_Hermione,_

She raised her eyebrow at such an informal way of addressing her. They never called each other by their given names for some reason. It felt rather _intimate_ , like they meant something to each other. Of course, she considered Draco a friend now, but well, their relationship felt tenuous, as if at a single moment, something monument could shift. She shook off the shiver in her spine and continued reading.

_Words cannot describe how horrible I feel about what happened. Honestly, if he wasn’t associated with you in the past, that piece of shit would be inside St. Mungo’s right now. What he did was absolutely classless, horrible, and downright wrong. I am sorry that a thing like him has shaded your view on men in general._

_I understand that right now you probably don’t want to think about it, but I do want to say that he will get what is coming to him. While you were in a daze, Weaselette dragged it out of school and took him back to the Burrow (can I confess that I kind of like her for that? She screeched in his ears the whole time), while Potter tried to appease the professors. I took you to the Hospital Wing, and, aside from bruising and a few broken bones, you are physically fine. Pomfrey gave you some dreamless sleep to make you get rest. We both know you would have been hysterical otherwise._

_After the incident, the Dragon dismissed us (being Pansy, Longbottom, Lovegood, and myself) from our classes. Needless to say, we discussed the situation and decided upon the best course of action. None of us are exactly pleased about the situation, as you can guess. Longbottom explained how your ‘relationship’ with the dunder-duo works. Which, for the record, is ridiculous. Just pointing it out._

_Enclosed in this rather large envelope is our current list of spells and their legality. Knowing you, we decided it best to head off your research. Our total list is here, with all of the spells thus far listed. Feel free to add whatever you know, and don’t worry. The parchment and copies are charmed to add whatever is changed from one copy to the others. We knew you’d do something similar yourself, and would have dragged us into it anyways._

_Draco_

_P.S. I’m rather rubbish at emotional junk, but if you need someone to talk at, I’m here._

_P.P.S. Also, if you need someone to transfigure that useless piece of dung into a bouncing weasel, I am more than happy to volunteer. In fact, I would call it poetic justice._

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, doing both in turn as she read his letter a few times. Yes, she admitted to herself, she would have been hysterical yesterday. Hell, she probably was hysterical right now. Wet, loud hiccups echoed around the deserted, dark room as she let bottled emotions flow over her.

Her fist clenched his letter, crumpling the parchment before she let it flutter to the ground. She gripped a pillow. Sitting against the backboard, her face burrowed into the pillow on her knees as tears slipped from her eyes, silent sobs wracking her body. Pain and sorrow flowed from her, memories of the past seven years going through her mind. Each word Ron spoke stabbed her afresh, opening barely closed wounds. He would never know how close to her insecurities.

Time slipped past her, warm rays of early morning sun warming her skin. She knew Madame Pomfrey came and checked on her early in the morning, but paid little attention to the matron. She dutifully answered questions, and tried to reassure her that all she needed was time, not draughts. Reluctantly, the older woman left her alone to ready the rest of the ward for the coming day of magical accidents. 

Her control and emotions slipped within moments, though she put silencing spell around her curtains as to not alarm the other woman. Protecting herself from the world, Hermione began analyzing everything Ron told her, the grains of truth whimpering as she felt reduced to an unconfident, ugly five-year-old.

Sometime during her sob session, a pair of warm arms wrapped around her. Her logical mind taking a backseat for the moment, she leaned against a warm, firm someone. Soft rumbles and a comforting weight upon her head. Her arms sneaked around his waist, finally registering what who was there with her.

“Shh,” his soft voice hushed her, “It’ll be alright.”

“Th-th-thank you, D-Draco,” she whimpered, snuggling closer to him.

Sensing him tense, Hermione buried her nose in this shoulder. After a moment, he sighed, bringing her closer even if he didn’t respond. She found his presence calming and soon, stopped crying all together before drifting off to sleep once more. Before her mind let go of all conscious thought, she let her mind wander to the facts of her life. Ron turned on her, hurt her one time too many, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Draco Malfoy, her nemesis and personal bully for six years, held her like she was someone worth being around. However, emotional and mental strain caught up and swallowed her into it’s dark embrace.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

McGonagall approached him at the Slytherin table, not that there were many people there, and brought him to a side room. Inside stood five other people, Potter, the Weaselette, Pansy, Lovegood, and Longbottom. Each appeared ill at ease and worried, which, all things considering, was a good sign. At least no one was at each other’s throats or yelling over one another. That had to count for something. He noticed the bags under the eyes of everyone assembled and realized they all slept fitfully last night.

“Now then, as you know, Miss Granger is in something of a delicate condition,” the Dragon began in her crisp Scottish accent, “Madame Pomfery just told me that, despite her total physical recover, she does not want to release her into the student population just yet. Of course, you are all allowed to visit her after breakfast. Mister Potter, what disciplinary action has been taken against Mister Weasley?” 

“Well, you see,” Potter responded, surprised to be addressed. “Ron will be participating in next week’s duel, but is on probation. If he breaks even the smallest infraction, he’ll be kicked out of the program for good. Not to mention he’s suffering from a broken jaw.”

Draco raised a pale eyebrow at the implication. Apparently, the Weasel’s study habits did not translate to Auror training. Considering what Longbottom told them last night, he wouldn’t be surprised if Hermione had been the one to do it for him. From the dark look on Potter’s face, he guessed the git’s place in the program was in question.

“As it should be,” the aged witch nodded. “That means, of course, that I expect all of you to either treat him civilly or ignore him. You are not to instigate any encounters,” her penetrating gaze pierced Draco, to which he simply shrugged. 

“As long as he’s not asking for it, I’m perfectly fine with pretending he doesn’t exist,” Draco responded.

“Very well,” the Headmistress continued, “I will allow you to miss class to help comfort her, however be warned that Poppy will keep me informed of who is currently with Miss Granger. Now then, to breakfast.”

Draco nodded at the Headmistress, sweeping out of the hall. Black robes billowed behind him in Severus Snape fashion, sure to make him proud. He stooped down at the Slytherin table to retrieve a piece of toast before he walked out of the hall. He stalked down the corridors with deliberate steps, unaware of the fear he inspired. Few saw such a dark Draco going through the halls this year, and even those who never encountered this mood knew to stay away. 

The Hogwarts rumor mill turned at full speed, each excited whisper deepening the scowl on the blonde’s face, though his mind wandered far from them. For almost three months, Draco found himself enraptured by the muggle-born. After their truce for Professor McGowan, he enjoyed the time spent with her. Her wit countered his sharp tongue, while her intelligence complimented his. Instead of cutting remarks, they exchanged playful banter. 

Somehow, all of that unlocked a part of him Draco thought he’d lost forever. At times, he felt like a typical seventeen year old boy; playful, snide, arrogant, but innocent. Around her, Draco smiled and laughed, joked and taunted, felt happy for the first time in years. Merlin, she had one hell of an affect on him, and he knew it. 

Not that Draco would admit it, but Hermione started to change him a long time ago. The girl had a nasty right hook, knocking some sense into his little, prat brain. A reluctant chuckle escaped him, as he remembered that night, pouring over everything he thought he knew about ‘mudbloods.’ In the end, he realized he knew nothing. Then, she went with Krum to the Yule Ball, obviously the belle and envy of every boy there. That’s when he really opened his eyes. He tried his best to ignore her or protect her in some way, but that went to hell during the war. The least he could do was get Dobby when his demented aunt tortured her not even a year before.

Shaking off his thoughts, Draco took a deep, calming breath. It wasn’t good to let memories run all over him. In any case, right now wasn’t about _him_. He stopped at the door of the Hospital Wing, hesitating for only a second before opening the door. 

“Ah, Mister Malfoy,” the matron greeted him as she bustled about some shelves to the left. “I presume you are here to see Miss Granger? Good, good. She needs someone right now.”

The motherly mediwitch all but shoved Draco towards Hermione’s bed, his replies and inquiries headed off by the woman. He later swore that her eyes sparkled with mischief, yes Pomfery’s eyes! The woman waved cheerily and left him right outside of the curtains. Shaking his head, he entered, passing through what must have been a silencio. 

Her sobs troubled him far more than he liked. Arms thrown carelessly around her knees and her bushy mane of hair exploding everywhere, despair painted her features. Helplessness and anger clogged his throat as he tried to breathe. He gulped in air and moved towards her, not truly in command of his body. Easing himself next to her, Draco embraced her. Soft nothings, the kind he never _imagined_ he’d be capable of uttering, flowed from his lips. He rested his head atop her soft, bushy curls and felt her settling against him, arms wrapping around his waist.

“Th-th-thank you, D-Draco,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

At that moment, Draco Malfoy knew he was totally, utterly, irrevocably screwed.

He froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. She’s never called him Draco, and something about it caught him off guard, breaking a final, invisible barrier. He had addressed his letter to her as Hermione, not Granger, but he never expected her to say his name. However, she snuggled closer and Draco found himself melting once more against his better sense and will. He settled against her until, not ten minutes later, she fell asleep. 

“I see a lot has happened since I’ve been away,” Potter murmured from his position against the wall. 

“How long have you been there,” Draco asked, tensing once more.

“Long enough,” he shrugged before moving to the chair opposite of Draco. “Gin told me a bit of what was happening, though ‘Mione’s been too mad to really talk much. I had to guilt Neville into saying me more.”

“And what did you find, boy wonder?” He sighed, hoping not to wake the woman in his arms.

“Nothing satisfactory,” the other man sighed, rubbing his face. “At least, nothing new. Neville said you two got on well, seemed to be friends and that sort. Pretty much what Gin told me. Though neither of them mentioned this.”

Seeing the other man gesture at him, Draco unconsciously brought Hermione closer, as if to protect her from Harry. Grey eyes glared forcefully into emerald, not quite liking the implication.

“‘This,’ as you so eloquently put it, is a bit of a newer development,” Draco replied evenly. “I don’t know whether or not it’ll continue once she’s rested a bit more. I have no plans of taking advantage of her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“If I’m being honest, I’m not,” Potter muttered, slouching in the chair. “It’s just… weird.”

“That’s your problem not mine,” Draco said, leaning against the headboard. “I don’t really care what others think about me in general.”

“I never would have guessed,” the other man wryly chuckled. “I took the day off to see her, and it looks like I’m not needed.”

Awkward silence cocooned the two former rivals. They tried various, benign subjects as the rest of the breakfast hour trickled by. Neither felt completely comfortable, but, they agreed, it was a good thing that Hermione rested. As the warning bell for the first class rung, Draco sighed, not quite wanting to leave her. While he knew the Dragon excused him from classes, he didn’t want to miss them; Hermione would nag him.

“So, uh, I should be going,” Draco muttered. 

“Yeah, I’ll watch her,” Harry replied, equally perturbed by their unspoken truce.

As he began to move, he found Hermione unwilling to let him go. Instead, she tightened her hold, brow furrowing as if concentrating on something. Glancing at Potter, he sighed in defeat. Really, this girl.

“Not a word,” Draco growled.

“I wasn’t planning on telling anyone,” Harry smirked, expression uncharacteristically smug. “Not that they wouldn’t believe me, or anything. Just, they can see it with their own eyes.”

He blinked once, twice, and again. He found them all peaking from the opposite side of the curtain, various expressions adorning their faces. Ginny and Pansy appeared far too pleased, while Neville scowled. Only Luna appeared relatively normal with her dreamy smile. Pinching his nose, Draco threw a silent prayer to Merlin or the gods, whoever would listen. 

“Really, Draco, don’t move on our account,” Pansy purred, conjuring chairs and desks.

“Do I even want to know how long,” Draco scowled.

“Not really, no,” Pansy flounced, “Potter, if you’d please move, thank you. Draco, darling, please do something else, or else your face will freeze like that.”

Accepting the inevitable, Draco rolled his eyes and settled back upon the bed. Not that Hermione would let him go any time soon, she held onto him with a vice-like grip. He didn’t complain, though he preferred not to appear so affectionate right now. He didn’t like the thought of a snapping Granger when she woke up surrounded by her friends while laying on top of him. All the while, Harry watched the others work together, the Weaselette sitting close to his side. Pansy explained their current project. Unfortunately, Ginny’s laughter nearly woke Hermione, and they all settled down once more. 

“Good Godric,” Harry murmured as he looked at Luna’s list. “You know how dangerous this list is in ‘Mione’s hands?”

“That’s the point, Potter,” Draco grumbled, resting his head upon Hermione’s once more, fighting the urge to doze off. “That worthless git you call a friend hurt her to the point of shock. Told her he rather let her die than rescue her. Do you really think Hermione is just going to let that go if she has a perfectly legal, moral, encouraged outlet?”

Harry grimaced at the blonde’s words, recalling the day before with perfect clarity. 

“Face it, Harry, Malfoy’s got a point,” Neville chuckled. “Besides, we figured Hermione would do something like this, so we gave her a day’s head start.”

“A day?” Harry muttered, rifling through the list of spells, hexes, and curses. “How do you figure?”

“Do you think she’ll really want to stay still after she wakes up from this nap?” Ginny snorted at her boyfriend. “From what we saw, she cried herself dry before collapsing.”

Draco couldn’t care less, his own lack of sleep catching up to him. Without his morning coffee, all adrenaline spent in caring for Hermione drained from him. Her hair smelled of lilacs and honeysuckle, lulling his previously racing mind to a hypnotic stand still. _It’s not like I can research_ , he reasoned with himself as he stifled a yawn. _Plus who thought she’d be so warm and comfortable? I couldn’t sleep last night either. I felt so damn murderous. I’m sure a few minutes wouldn’t hurt…_

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

Neville surreptitiously watched Malfoy and Hermione, almost gagging on Pansy’s silent approval. Had she written it, Neville convinced himself, Pansy couldn’t do a better job. He realized, with a groan, how he’d fallen asleep essentially cuddling with the Gryffindor Princess. A glance to his partner revealed ecstatic euphoria in her eyes. Neville could actually groan.

“Now then,” Pansy smiled, “If you are not working with us, I must insist that you at least talk quietly amongst yourselves. We can’t go waking up the patient, can we?”

“Better yet,” Luna smiled, serene and unaffected. _I wish I could be that calm_ , Neville sighed. “Why don’t we remove to the library? I’m sure if we explain to Madame Pomfrey our desire to leave Hermione resting but wanting to be available should we be needed, she and the Headmistress will understand.” 

Neville actually groaned at the suggestion. If Merlin himself tried to script this romance, Neville doubted he could do so better or with more willing players. No matter the guaranteed entertainment of watching them wake up together would be, Neville knew a losing battle when he saw it. Instead of fighting Pansy on such a ‘romantic’ choice, he went to Harry and Ginny, convincing them to come with them. With everything sent to the library, the group trickled out of the Hospital Wing with a last glance at the sleeping pair.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

Minerva McGonagall sighed as she passed a gaggle of second year Hufflepuffs. The day before created a monumental mess, both with the school and the ministry. Ronald Weasley, a former Gryffindor of her’s, decided it the best time to lose his infamous temper. Worse, he unleashed it against her protege. From Kristin McGowan’s recounting, it sounded like a typical post break-up conversation, albeit a tad violent. At the end, Mister Weasley had broken Hermione’s arm. In Kristin’s professional opinion, the mental and emotional damage appeared the most devastating. The blonde woman had no clue.

Minerva thought of the cups of tea and desolate tears Hermione shared with her in the past. Those fights appeared petty and small compared to this explosive encounter. She knew from the young woman, just how harmful her friend could be. The elder professor would never, in a million years, guess her current romantic intrigue, though.

Poppy greeted her at the door, eyes alight and twinkling. The mediwitch adored romantic plots, gossiping about it like it was her job. In some ways, Minerva supposed, she encountered and dealt with such plots every day. A grey brow rose on the Headmistress’ face, a silent inquiry.

“Minerva, you will never believe what has happened this morning,” Poppy grinned, almost bursting with excitement. 

“I can assume it has to do with Miss Granger,” she replied, watching the nurse’s eyes light up.

“Of course, dear,” she waved, walking towards the back corner of the Hospital Wing. “Her little friends all came today, as excepted. What is surprising is this.”

Quiet, cautious steps followed the beaming nurse behind the white hospital curtain. Nothing prepared Minerva for the sight before her. _Albus would be so proud,_ she thought, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

Before her, two long time rivals slept in an affectionate embrace. Years ago, neither of these students would be caught dead touching each other, let along comforting one another. Obvious tear stains marred the otherwise white uniform shirt upon the boy’s chest where riotous, chocolate curls rested. Lean, muscular arms encircled the girl’s waist, a rather protective gesture. His pale cheek laid atop a cushion of hair. 

“I told you you’d never believe me,” Poppy’s soft voice pulled her from her reverie. 

“Well, who would have guessed,” she mused softly. 

“Albus, I believe, had a pool on this,” the mediwitch chuckled softly, remarking before she left, “In all my years, I have not seen a story such as this. Minerva, I hope you know what to do.”

The Scottish witch pondered her colleague’s parting words as she watched the pair on the bed. Obviously in a deep slumber, she knew the opportunity this presented to many in the wizarding world. If these two truly decided to pursue a relationship, the obstacles to overcome would be enormous. 

Lightning struck through her in that moment. She wanted to do anything and everything for them. If these two teenagers, two of the most damaged survivors of the war, can move on with their lives. Move on with their lives, learn to forgive each other, and open their hearts once more, there was no reason the rest of the world couldn’t. 

“I do know what you mean, Poppy,” she murmured softly before whisking away to her office. There was work to be done.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

Hermione hummed in contentment. None of her usual nightmares bothered her while she slept, and, while still drowsy, her mind began to wake up once more. Voices played at the edge of her senses, soft and calming. While her mind began to tick once more, her body refused to answer the call to consciousness. Indeed, the warm pillow and rhythmic pulse lulled her weary emotions, like a hot water bottle in the winter. 

_Wait._ Eyes flew open, startling her into the land of the living. _Pillows are not warm, nor do they pulse or beat._ She blinked once more, Memories flooding her mind once more. Transfiguration. Neville running to her. Ron. His hurtful words. Coming to the hospital wing. Waking up with a letter, and bawling her eyes out. Then Draco came, and she cried on him for Merlin knows how long until she passed out. 

She froze as all thoughts stopped at the end of the puzzle. She fell asleep on top of Draco Malfoy, her childhood bully and academic rival. Laying in his arms, she felt peaceful and content, warm and protected. She realized how comfortable his chest felt, and stopped her thoughts right there. Hermione refused to connect the dots further, because if she did, there was no going back. She knew it, he probably did, too. 

Except that she probably crossed that line earlier this morning. _Well, shit_ , she swore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have honestly been meaning to write the dueling stuff for the past chapter or two. I didn't even plan on all this fluff! It just kind of happened. I liked the affection from the end of last chapter, and kind of just let it roll around. With Minerva and Poppy (who I made into a gossip, because it would be amusing), I liked an outside perspective; one of the adults.
> 
> For those wondering, yes Ron will get his. Yes, Lavender will get her own punishment. Yes, there will be badassery (hopefully the next chapter). Yes, eventually I will get onto the mystery part of this. Yes, Neville will have a backbone versus Pansy. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Duel of Fates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited duels take place. What will happen, I wonder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, it’s been a while since I wrote. I actually got poked a bit by Jewel_Flower and FirefLili. So, I took a bit to read and reread what I wrote to get re-inspired. Huzzah! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.

No one quite knew what happened in the hospital wing when Hermione and Draco woke up, and not from a lack of curiosity. The pair showed up a few hours after the beginning of classes, slightly ruffled and awkward, but focused for the most part. From the outside, it appeared like nothing changed between the pair. As they sat at one of the large tables, laden with books and volumes, they discussed spells and applications as if nothing happened.

Pansy and Ginny watched them like hawks, hoping for any hint of romance or awkwardness or something. If you were to ask them, Ginny would comment that they appeared a twinge pink when passing books back and forth. Pansy then would add that they couldn’t hold the other’s gaze for long. 

Neville wanted to hit his head against the table.

“So, this is what I’m thinking, Hermione,” Harry addressed her as she walked in, knowing the no non-sense look on his friend’s face, “I still have the notes we made for the DA before it broke up. We can start there and work on different combinations.”

“What’s the DA?” Pansy asked as Hermione and Harry began to dig through a muggle notebook.

“Dumbledore’s Army, the club that Umbridge busted us for in my fourth year,” Luna easily answered. “In the Room of Requirement. Harry made it to teach us defense since she was less than competent.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Pansy rose a manicured eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Neville mumbled in agreement. “Well, it was Hermione’s idea, really. She got Harry to take charge, helped him plan the lessons, sometimes even taught the spells to him first. She more or less taught him spells for the third task the year before, so they had a system in place for the DA.”

“I always thought Moody, well Crouch Jr., taught Potter,” Draco remarked, flipping through a book idly.

“He pulled the strings from backstage, as it were,” Luna shrugged, writing down a spell on her parchment. “But no, it was Hermione who helped Harry through the tournament and the DA. She even made our magical contract and galleons.”

Draco’s mind vividly pictured the ugly boils in a pattern oddly. Neither Umbridge or Pomfrey could figure out how to dispel the things, and, eventually, caused the girl to be a social pariah. It made sense, now. The Ravenclaw never did tell how she got the boils. Of course, when defying authority, Hermione would take every precaution to not get caught. The newly discovered vindictive side apparently had always been part of the golden girl, and Draco couldn’t have been more pleased.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he breathed, “Not such a golden example of fair play, is she?”

“You would be one to know, Malfoy,” Neville retorted. “I’m sure she’s done quite a bit to get back at you throughout the years.” 

“She has one hell of a right hook,” was the response with a hand instinctively going to his nose, a small scar still lingering. 

“I’m missing something here,” Pansy blankly stated.

“Hermione hexed the contract that we signed to spell out the word ‘snitch’ in boils, and then make it so they can’t speak of the DA after it was activated to protect our secrets,” Luna distractedly answered, her quill flourished with another spell added to the list.

“I like her more and more,” Pansy grinned, wicked and dark.

“If Umbridge wasn’t such a twisted witch, I wouldn’t have needed to do it,” Hermione replied as she sat beside Luna.

“Was leaving her to the mercy of Gwarp and the centaurs really necessary, though?” Harry remarked, amused smile on his face.

“She deserved it,” she shrugged in answer.

Neville sniggered at the stunned expressions of the Slytherins. Hermione’s dark side came out to play every now and again. Few knew it existed. Most assumed her to be a happy-go-lucky, smart, sweet bookworm. Which, Neville conceded, Hermione could be most of the time. However, pragmatism and necessity showcased this side of her character.

“I-What-She,” Pansy blinked. “Yeah, she did.”

“Looking back, that was kind of cruel,” Ginny chuckled.

“My only regret is that Frienze saved her,” Hermione retorted, voice distracted and careless. “Though, her desire for power and absolute arrogance did allow us to find of one the horocruxes easily. Much better than having to hunt down Mundungus.” 

“She’s scarily pragmatic,” Pansy whispered to the brunette boy.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” he grinned.

“Now, this is what I’m going to do for the duels,” Hermione primly pressed on and explained her plan. “Who wants to step into the spell room with me?”

Silence greeted her as each of the other students looked at each other, not quite wanting to go in with the witch. Finally, Luna stood and hooked arms with the witch and began the trek. Harry shook his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, his girlfriend raised an eyebrow. Pansy, still absorbing information about the goody-two-shoes, shook her head.

“You are in so much trouble,” She finally remarked to the silent blonde, breaking the silence.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he drily retorted, the ‘I already knew that, thanks,’ hung unspoken in the air.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

Hermione watched the third day of duels with great satisfaction. The past week and a half passed in a blur. While the open wounds that Ron’s words created continued to slowly heal, she did not allow herself to let if fester. Instead, she threw herself into the work of the moment: preparing for this tournament. Most classes for fifth years and up had finished at the end of the previous week to accommodate this spectacle. 

Upon first viewing brackets, a wicked sense of amusement and excitement filled her. Her side of the bracket included both Lavender and Ronald. She practically salivated over the chance at making into the fools they were, her dark side reveling in the chance of vengeance.

Now, as she watched the majority of the fifth and sixth years knocked out of contention early, she had to wonder at the fairness in the seeding. They were random, paying no attention to gender, age, or ability. A fact that made for more quick, lopsided duels than quality practice that Ixley advertised. _At least_ , she thought as she watched Neville toy with a Hufflepuff fifth year, _the consolation bracket should be good for them_.

“Excited for your next match?” Pansy sauntered next to the brunette.

“That is an understatement,” Hermione grinned, feral and excited. “Though, perhaps fifth and sixth years shouldn’t have been allowed to participate.”

“Yeah, it’s a slaughter out there,” the Slytherin commented as Neville quickly disarmed the Hufflepuff. “All the better for us.”

In truth, Hermione felt a sense of melancholy as she marked the match on her copy of the brackets, a few notes jotted down on the different duelists. She knew that most generations weren’t like this, the loss of their childhood stirred within her. The majority of the contest bracket contained seventh and eight year Hogwarts students, several trainees already knocked out.

“And our winner is Gryffindor eighth year, Neville Longbottom,” Luna dreamily announced to the converted hall. “Better luck next time, Jerry. Be sure to dispel the wracklespurts before you duel, not during, and that should help.”

“I love her,” Pansy chuckled as Neville came towards them. “Her quidditch commentary made the sport amusing and interesting.”

“I know, right?” Hermione smiled and handed her things to the Slytherin girl. “I almost can’t believe she forfeited her place in the tournament, but it really makes it that much better.”

“Next up are two Gryffindor eighth years,” her voice echoed through the hall. “Our challenger is Lavender Brown. She is well known amongst the male half of the population, or so Ernie McMillan tells me.”

Snickering broke out amongst the crowd, to which the blonde girl huffed. She stepped onto the dueling stage and scowled. Very few people talked to her ever since she ‘stole’ Ron from the Golden Girl. Her subtle hexes and veiled comments grated for the past few months. What Ron said hurt her even worse. She didn’t know what to do or think or say, and so took out her displeasure on the brunette.

“The defender in this match is Hermione Granger,” Luna continued through the crowd’s roar. “She can be quite nice, though her aura today is quite dark. I would watch out if I were in the crowd.”

Hermione took to the stage in her dueling wear. Black exercise leggings and a tight fitted top were assigned to each duelist, their affiliation emblazoned on the front and names on the back. Both girls sported the Gryffindor lion and crest over their hearts. Across her back, white letters spelled out ‘GRANGER.’

“Today’s referee is Madam Hootch,” Luna hummed as the grey haired woman marched to the middle of the area.

“Duelists, bow to each other,” her crisp voice called out, quieting the excited crowd. Both young women marched to the middle of the floor, eyeing the other warily. “Now, I want a good, clean match. Dark spells will be an automatic disqualification to continue on, and illegal spells can land you in trouble. Do you understand?”

Hermione nodded her head, pushing aside her emotional mind and locking it in a box. Instead, her analytical, logical mind took over. She noticed different things, from how tight Lavender held her wand to her posture, how she walked, even the nervous tick of her jaw. Hermione saw it all and logged it in her mind, planning how best to humiliate the girl in front of her. Madam Hootch had no need to worry about her use of dark or illegal spells.

She turned her back to her opponent, and walked forward three measured paces. The blow of a whistle brought forth a flurry of movement. With a turn, Hermione flung a silent flipendo -first year stuff, of course, but she found a few fun uses for it the past week. Instead, her foe threw up a loud shield before flinging an impedimenta. 

“I thought you were smarter than that, Hermione,” Lavender sneered. “A first year spell, really?”

During which time, Hermione flung three basic jinxes at the girl. Thus far, the blonde girl opposite her held up admirably at basic spells and hexes. For fun, Hermione blasted off a silent slug eating spell, hoping it would hit Ron this time, with no luck. As Lavender continued to protect herself, throwing weak and inaccurate jinxes at Hermione, the brunette saw through her facade.

Hermione scared Lavender. 

She shook and trembled as she spoke. Even though her spells could make a decent combination, they were slow in coming and often between shields and dodges. Her legs could barely move fast enough, and the girl gripped her wand too tightly to duel efficiently. So, Hermione continued her elementary onslaught, putting a leg-locker followed by tickling and finishing off with a body bind. 

The room went silent. No one expected Hermione Granger to use nothing but first year spells to win a duel. The Aurors present admitted the spells well done and well strung, incapacitating the opponent without so much as breaking a sweat. The students realized that it was not the breadth of knowledge, but the usage that won a duel at the end of the day.

Amid the quiet shock, the brunette in question sauntered down the stage towards the fallen blonde. Fire burned in her amber eyes, a vicious smile upon her cherry lips. Hermione wanted this to hurt in the most sensitive place, the ego. She flicked her fingers and leant down by the girl’s ear.

“What use are more complex spells, when I don’t need them to win? It’s so easy, a first year could do it,” Hermione purred, her voice enchanted to whisper to everyone in the room to hear. “Now, I believe this is mine.”

She leaned down and took the wand from Lavender’s frozen hand. Dark satisfaction filled her when Lavender narrowed her eyes. Tutting and smiling, sweet and innocent, Hermione stood up and turned to leave. She paused for a moment before turning back to the frozen girl.

“And Lavender, next time you’re mad at Ron, take it up with him,” Hermione smirked.

She turned quick on her heels and walked away, flicking her wrist to end the enchantment. Madam Hootch took the wand from her hand more on instinct than awareness as she watched the brunette girl walk down the stage stairs. People moved to accommodate the brunette as she retreated to her corner. The younger years already idolized her, and the older had taken great care in avoiding her. 

“Absolutely brilliant, Hermione,” Pansy sniggered as she handed the brunette her robes. “I do believe part one of your plan went off brilliantly.”

“Thank you,” Hermione grinned. “I thought it went quite well, myself. Now to hope for the rest to fall into place.”

“I’m sure it will,” the Slytherin patted her back. “Let’s go see how the boys are doing.”

Standing to the side, Kristen McGowan watched with wary wonder. Hogwarts this semester turned into quite the interesting experiment. Sure, she decided to push her project back to make room for the duels, but she never saw so many young people with potential. The pressures of war created quite a few diamonds, she observed.

Indeed, most of the newer faculty and staff balked at the idea of a dueling tournament, except Ixley. Witnessing her older students fight brought a new respect for them to the young blonde woman. Even the mild mannered Neville managed to surprise her with the ferocity of his spell work. However, the symbolism of Hermione Granger simply plucking Lavender Brown’s wand out of her hand escaped no one. She told the girl she wasn’t worth the trouble of using magic to disarm her, an insult of the highest caliber. 

As the brunette in question made her way through the milling crowd, the other Gryffindor girl got up, finally released of the curse, and stalked towards her. Kristen tried her best to make her way to the raging Lavender before blood could truly be let. Instead, she found herself ringside to another dramatic scene fit for the soap operas of daytime muggle TV.

“Do you want to know why Ron cheated on you, Granger,” an enraged Lavender snarled as she raged through the remaining crowd to Hermione’s side. “He said you were cold. You didn’t give him what he wanted, what I could give him.”

Hermione rose a brow, watching the girl unimpressed and detached. While Pansy on one side and Neville on the other glared at the blonde Gryffindor, she didn’t drop her gaze. 

“Once more, if you’re mad at Ron, take it out on him, Brown,” Hermione stated with no emotion.

“See? That right there,” the blonde girl hissed. “I don’t know why the world loves you so much. You’re nothing but a cold hearted, mean spirited bitch. You aren’t a real Gryffindor anymore, Granger. Maybe you never were.”

“And how do you figure that, Brown? Because I don’t yell and scream at you, but get even?” Hermione retorted, turning fully towards Lavender.

“No,” the other girl growled. “Because you are cruel and heartless. You don’t care about anyone, and run them under the bus. Did you know that, because of that stunt you pulled last week, Ron may lose his job? Harry doesn’t talk to him, nor does his own sister, and his mother has been hellish.”

“That doesn’t prove your point at all,” Hermione responded with a small shake. “You only stated the consequences of Ronald’s actions, not reasons why I am ‘cruel and heartless,’ as you put it. I did not make Ronald cheat on me, nor did I make him come here and assault me.” 

“Consequences?!” Lavender shrieked. “What the hell is wrong with you? You used to care about him!”

“Before he broke my heart and my will for the last time,” Hermione snapped. “I’ve been too nice for too long, and he took full advantage of that. I will not allow him to walk all over me and expect me to take it with a smile. If he wanted to keep his job, he would study and do what he needed. If he wanted to stay with me, he wouldn’t have gone with you. I fail to see how this makes me a bad person, nor anything but a Gryffindor.

“Do you know what I think this is about,” Hermione continued, her voice cool and calculating. “I think you are ticked off that, despite everything, I am doing just fine. You wanted to one-up me in something, wanted to beat me. You hate the fact that Ronald wants me over you. You also hate that I humiliated you today. Let me make something clear - I am not the forgiving, naive girl I used to be.”

She turned on her heel and walked away without looking back, flipping her chocolate curls. Lavender’s mouth worked for a few moments, noises coming out in random snippets. 

“So what?” she finally yelled at the disappearing brunette. “At least I can still love, can you?”

The little group walked in silence through the corridors to the other dueling hall. Hermione let her mind chew away at Lavender’s parting words, unwilling to admit the worry she had. She knew her exterior to be cold and tough. Few people made their way into her heart anymore, and most of them had been there since she was young. In fact, only two new people broke through her shell since the war started.

“You know she’s wrong,” Pansy suddenly spoke, breaking Hermione from her reverie.

“What?” her eloquent reply.

“Brown,” Pansy answered in kind before expanding. “She implied you can’t love others anymore, and she’s wrong. You are perhaps one of the most loving people I know to a select few. You just guard your love.” 

Hermione nodded, not quite sure what to say to that.

“Really, ‘Mione,” Neville nudged her, “I’ve known you since first year on the train. If anyone is kind and charitable, it’s you. Girls like Lavender have always rubbed you the wrong way, that’s all.” 

A smile graced her lips, they walked through a silent corridor into the loud, raucous dueling hall two. Almost immediately, Ginny found them, dragging Hermione by the arm to middle of the room. On the stage, Harry fought against Ernie McMillan. While the Hufflepuff valiantly shot off spells and threw up shields, he couldn’t match Harry’s fluidity and agility. Cheers roared through the crowd as The Savior stunned and disarmed Ernie. A large group of fans surrounded the former Gryffindor as he stepped off the stage. 

“So, how did everything go with Lav-Lav?” Ginny asked as she watched her boyfriend awkwardly go through the adoring crowd. 

“About like this, except I didn’t disarm her,” Hermione smirked.

“Oh? Then how is it like this?” Ginny motioned towards the swamped stage.

“She walked up to the bitch and took the wand from her petrified hand,” Pansy related with relish.

“You did not,” Ginny gasped, scandalized expression fighting with a grin. “You totally did! Hermione, that is amazing! I wish I was there to see her reaction.”

“She didn’t have much of one, being petrified and all,” Pansy sniggered.

“Afterwards, she decided to yell at me, but just the normal stuff,” Hermione added with a shrug. “Nothing new or world shattering.”

“Who did what?” A familiar blonde drawled.

“Brown insulted Hermione,” Pansy replied, sweet and innocent. “Don’t give me that look, Hermione, she did! Called you heartless and cruel and mean spirited and all sorts of things, didn’t she?”

“As I said, nothing new,” Hermione sighed, fighting a blush from her face. “It’s nothing really, she was just upset that I beat her.”

“With first year spells and by taking the wand out of her hand,” Pansy gave her a knowing smirk.

Draco burst out laughing at the insult the muggle-born delivered. While not particularly subtle, the implications and impression left would leave a lasting blemish on the blonde Gryffindor’s psyche and reputation. He would never have thought to do so, himself, opting to disarm the girl to avoid touching her. 

“That is brilliant,” he chortled. “Instead, I’m stuck here since I’m next.”

“She didn’t have to say that Hermione was unable to love others, though,” Pansy slyly added as she looked at Ginny. “I mean, that is rude. Said something along the lines of ‘at least I can still love,’ or some rubbish of the like.”

“You don’t say,” the ginger responded in kind, quickly picking up on Pansy’s game. “I would say that is quite the lie, but then again, Lavender has the advantage of a paramour, even if it’s my brother. However, Hermione is quite capable of loving people.”

“Just what I said, Ginevra,” Pansy hummed in agreement. 

All the while, Draco and Hermione remained silent. Keen grey eyes inspected the brunette, noticing her fidgeting fingers and downcast eyes. He exhaled through his nose, trying to keep some control of his temper for the moment, though his next opponent would see no mercy. Just when the gawking ended from the last incident, the blonde idiot had to go and open that box of doubt.

“I’m fine, you guys,” Hermione said, laying a gentle hand on Pansy and Draco’s arms. “Really, she’s just upset that Ronald doesn’t want her outside of the bedroom and that I humiliated her without emotionally reacting to her. That’s all.”

“Hermione,” Draco began, not convinced in the least.

“I’m fine,” she leveled her honey eyes at the blonde. “Now, I do believe you were just called up. You wouldn’t want to lose before going against, Harry, would you?”

He scowled at her, before leaning down and whispering, “we’re coming back to this later,” then storming off towards the stage. Behind his billowing robes stood a blushing Hermione, with Pansy and Ginny giving each other a high five where she could not see. Harry shook his head with evident amusement, and Neville rolled his eyes.

“Can’t love, my ass,” Pansy sniggered.

“More like jealous she is stuck with my brother,” Ginny giggled.

“Oh, shut it you two,” Hermione snapped, her cheeks bright pink.

Neville groaned. For the past week, the ‘cuteness,’ as Pansy and Ginny put it, had been dampened by Hermione’s voracious need to prepare. He hoped to escape it until after Christmas holiday, knowing that he could not actually escape the phenomenon forever. Merlin most likely wrote this story himself, Neville figured. 

“Who is Draco slated to duel?” Hermione asked, after a moment, ignoring the two twittering girls.

“I dunno,” Harry answered. “I think it’s one of the Auror trainees. Some bloke from Durmstrang who missed the war.”

“That’ll be interesting,” she murmured, eyeing the stage with interest.

Lee Jordan sat to the side, announcing the pair of wizards. Draco took the stage to a mixed chorus of curious whispers about the Malfoy Heir and his misdeed and boos. Across from him stood a heavy boned man, about his age, with dark brows and shifty eyes. Hermione noticed the intense glare they exchanged, as she realized Draco knew his opponent.

Once Ixley, the referee of the match, announced the rules, and both young men agreed to them, did the tension seep from the stage to the crowd. Both figures represented a rumor. Most Hogwarts students, Hermione included, did not truly know what went into the Russian school’s curriculum. Are their styles different? What types of spells do they use? How do they use them? Even with the insight of Viktor Krum, Hermione hummed with the excitement of learning something new. 

On the other hand, many of the people in the room heard rumors of what the Malfoys, Draco in particular, did during the war. The past few months shed light on some of the horrors. Hermione had to shake him awake from more than one ill timed nap, and experienced some of what he saw during the war. Yet, the majority of the students knew little beyond the public persona, which displayed next to nothing.

“On my whistle,” Ixley primly instructed. “Three, two, one.”

A sharp blast of noise pierced the silence only moments before the first spells whizzed through the air. Before long, bright flashes volleyed between the two, reds and greens mixing with blues and purples. Both men moved with such speed and fluidity that most of the audience could not take their eyes off of the stage. 

Honey eyes watched the action with anxious interest. It didn’t take long for Hermione to notice the difference in the spells used. Where Draco took care to use easily recognizable, standard spells, the Durmstrang alum danced along the tightrope of legality. A hand covered her mouth as she gripped the person next to her.

Draco threw back as good as he gave. Dodging and weaving through the volley of spells, however, gave his opponent the advantage. Just as it appeared the two matched, the Durmstrang threw a handful of questionably illegal spells, throwing Draco off balance. Hermione watched in horror as a feral smile appeared on the other man’s face, wand at the ready for some painful or cutting, or both. 

A flash of purple buzzed through the air just at he blonde man ducked, crouching as sparkles flew right above his head. With a quick flick, three bright curses flew through towards his opponent. The dark man dodged the first before throwing up a diamond shaped shield to deflect the second. However, in that time, Draco had thrown a few more curses, and charms, breaking the shield.

His opponent, however, was not to be outdone. A quirk of the wrist deflected the last few spells, as he threw a few dubious looking spells towards the Slytherin. This time, Hermione could see the frustration radiating off of Draco. She could tell, as he weaved and dodged the spells, that his temper began to give. A deep scowl found it’s way onto his lips as the other man spoke, insulting him apparently. She could see his curses coming faster, harder, with more force, and felt his magic crackling around him.

Apparently, the Durmstrang alumnus realized this as well, and changed tactics immediately. He tried to close the gap between the two, firing spells, hard and fast, at Draco. Within arm’s reach he came, dark eyes glittering with malice. Hermione gripped someone’s hand, worrying how such strong spell at casted from proximity. Just at the stranger raised his wand, words either within his mind or upon his lips, a bright flash blinded the dueling hall.

Blinking away stars and spots, the next thing that she saw was an irritated Draco standing over the unconscious man. A dark scowl painted his face as, for the first time, Hermione saw cuts and scratches with blood flowing freely down his left arm. Dark ink, faded but distinct against his pale skill, almost glowed in the light of the hall. All together, Draco Malfoy appeared imposing and powerful as, with a twitch of his wrist, his opponent’s wand flew into his outstretched hand. 

The hall, silent and stunned, watched as the blonde stepped down the platform and handed the wand to the professor. Graceful footsteps brought him in front of the little group of friends and directly in front of Hermione. She inspected him, her gaze shrewd and concerned as his own eyes did much the same.

“Come on then,” Hermione ended up sighing, a hand grasping Draco’s wrist as she turned. “Might as well patch you up now. No need to have blood dripping all over the place. Filch will be quite cross.”

The hall began to whisper, the noise quietly filtering into the hall as Hermione marched down, trying to keep her heart at a normal pace. Once the dull thrum of the dueling hall faded to silence, she slowed her pace before stopping all together. She turn towards the quiet blonde behind her and tsked, muttering to herself all the while.

“Honestly, what were they thinking, admitting that kind of person to the academy?” she fussed with a wave of her wand, repairing a cut along his hairline. “Such dark spells in a school duel and in front of his superiors as well!” Another wave healed the cuts on his arm. 

“Hermione,” Draco said, trying to catch her attention.

“And to slot him against you? Who made these brackets?” The blood disappeared from his left arm as she continued to rant.

“Hermione,” he tried once more.

“Really now! You would think that they would have learned after this past war to be careful about who they select,” she lectured to no one, mending the cuts in the shirt as to one more cover his mark.

“‘Mione,” the blonde smirked at her rage.

“I have half a mind to go into that hall and hex them all to oblivion. Maybe I’ll get Ginny to cast her bat boogy hex,” she growled out, healing a bruise. 

“Hermione,” He all but shouted.

“What?” she roared in return.

It appeared that her rage had finally subsided, blinking a few times to realize where she was and what was happening. Concern and frustration at the professors had made her forget exactly what she was doing and where she stood. Tunnel vision made way for realization. She stood, ranting in the middle of a deserted corridor on the second floor with a smirking and far too smug looking Draco Malfoy in front of her. Honey eyes narrowed as the blonde’s smirk grew.

“Better?” he drawled.

“How can I be better?” She growled, aiming a heated glare at the man who towered above her. “Did you see those curses he threw at you? More than just a basic reductor or bombarda curse, they were seriously dark! I saw at least a bone breaker, as well as that curse from hell that Dolohov used, and believe me, I know how bad that one hurts.”

“But I’m here and nothing’s wrong with me,” he simply stated as he leaned against the wall, grey eyes watching her intently. 

“I know that,” she ground out, “But that doesn’t mean that something bad couldn’t have! Do you have any idea how worried I was? I am tired of my loved ones being hurt in front of me, and not being able to help. Even worse, Ixley didn’t do a bloody thing about it! If he’s half as competent as he pretends to be, he knew exactly what those curses were and how dangerous they were! No, he watched and just let it happened. What would have happened if you got hit by more than one? Those combinations he threw weren’t just to incapacitate or maim, they were to kill!”

Draco listened with part amusement, part exasperation as the brunette in front of him began to pace back and forth. However, he stopped and openly stared at her when she said ‘loved ones.’ Those two simple words bounced around his mind, echoing, the rest of her rant forgotten. The sudden thought that she, Hermione Granger, considered him, Draco Malfoy, amongst her loved ones shocked him, a bold of lighting right through his body. He swallowed hard, as a warm emotion swept through his body from the tip of his toes to his hair. He couldn’t even think of a witty retort, instead holding back tears as he swept her up into a tight hug.

“And what if you die- wha!” she yelped in surprise. “Draco, what are you doing?” 

“Thank you,” he whispered, gripping her tighter as his eyes squeezed shut.

Shock flooded Hermione’s body for a split second, unable to recognize what happened. As the seconds ticked by, she simply sighed and relaxed into the blonde Slytherin. Her arms wrapped around him, hand rubbing along his spine in a comforting manner. Eyes closed and her head settled against his chest. For that moment she felt content, warm and protected, as time slowed around them. 

A loud gong resounded through the halls, marking the end of the class period. Consequently, Hermione slowly pulled away from the Slytherin in front of her. Honey peered up at his sharp, aristocratic features, trying to gauge the expression on his face, reassuring herself. A small grin played at the edge of her lips.

“You’re weird, you know that?” she chuckled, beating down the blush that fought to rise to her face at his angelic smile.

“Says the Gryffindor who ranted for five minutes straight about how dangerous dueling is after fighting a bloody war,” he softly retorted, pulling away from her. 

“I never said dueling is dangerous, Draco,” she scowled. “I said that your opponent used dangerous spells that shouldn’t have been allowed. Anyhow, aren’t you going to tell me where you know him from?”

“Who said anything about knowing him?” a single eyebrow raised in question.

“Your face, that’s who,” she rolled her eyes, starting to walk back to the hall before streams of younger students began to flood to them.

“What does that even mean,” he snorted. 

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is fooled by the Malfoy mask,” she smirked at him, eyes twinkling.

It was his turn to scowl. 

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

 

“And Ronald just scrapes past fellow Auror trainee Seamus Finnagen, which is unfortunate. Seamus is really a nice fellow, but now it appears that Ron will have to face the dark aura that is surrounding Hermione. He should really try to cleanse his own before going into that match,”Luna announced in her dreamy, melodic voice. 

“I do have to say, Lovegood is an amusing announcer,” Draco snickered as the ashen faced Ron Weasley stepped down from the dais. 

“I’m rather glad Ixley decided on having both her and Lee as a tag team,” Pansy agreed with a smirk. 

Sure, Hermione beat the black haired Slytherin out the last round after a rather playful duel (honestly, who heard of a changing their friend’s hair a color and then giving them wings and a tail during a proper duel?), that did not make the rest any less amusing. Almost as if fate itself were continuing to write the story, the semi-finals for the duel were whittled down to Hermione and Ron on one side with Draco and Harry on the other. The brunette watched as both young men bantered and exchanged half serious threats and challenges. Everyone knew them to be school-long rivals. With the rest of the classes done for the younger years, the Quidditch pitch once more became home of a spectacle. 

“In a half hour’s time, we will begin the semi-final round with Hermione Granger of Gryffindor,” Jordan Lee announced to a roar of approval, “And Auror Trainee, Ronald Weasley.”

While there still was some cheering, a mixture of boos and hisses mixed in at Ron’s name. A satisfied smirk found it’s way onto Hermione’s face as she leaned back against one of the stands. 

“Do remember to clear your magical fields of all creatures, including doxium fairies,” Luna added. “They will only impede your enjoyment of this most anticipated event.”

“Right-o, Luna,” Jordan Lee answered, amused. “Remember, half an hour until our next match!”

All the while, the young, fresh faced Muggle Studies professor watched the little group of eighth years with increasing interest. Something seemed to have changed during the course of the dueling. She couldn’t quite place her finger on where or what, but it happened. The youngest Malfoy and muggle born witch were still close as ever, but not awkward. Not in the least.

She observed as the group joked around, talking about what was happening, strategies and dueling combinations. They huddled around their unannounced leaders, glancing at one or both before continuing their activity. The adaptability and recovery of the young had always intrigued the woman, amazed at how they changed. Only a few short months ago, this group would never have been possible, disliking each other for past grievances. Now, they were closer than anyone else in the whole of the castle.

“It is truly amazing what has happened,” a teary eyed Minerva McGonagall sniffled, her eyes upon the same students. “I never thought I’d see the day. Thank you, Kristen.”

So the two women sat, watching as little group laughed and chatted until a bell rung through the pitch. The crowd scurried to their seats, whispers flowing between the students. A nervous energy swirled in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife as the duelists made their way towards the stage. 

“In five minutes time we shall be starting the first of the semi final duels,” Jordan Lee’s voice boomed, excited and energized. “You will not want to miss this one, folks.”

“The dark aura surrounding Hermione has been getting thicker,” Luna hummed. “And Ronald’s still has the wracklespurts from earlier. This will be a duel for the ages.”

“Quite right, Luna,” Lee beamed. “And in five minutes time, we shall begin the duel of the decade!”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Jordan Lee, who, she swore, winked right back at her. Of course he would make a huge deal out of this. Luna’s odd mysticism simply confused the majority of the school, unable to fully comprehend the meaning. This left her, nervous and excited, the possibilities running through her mind. She paced, stretched some, and paced some more. Conspiring whispers and rumors flew through the air above her, students, teachers, and trainees alike eagerly anticipating this match, their words and analysis going back and forth high in the stands.

Hermione mused if this is what the Quidditch players felt before every match; a heady mix of anticipation, excitement, and competitiveness swirled in her stomach. If so, she understood what drove them to such dangerous lengths to play the game. All the while, a pair of grey eyes bored into her. Irritation and curiosity finally drove her to glancing at the blonde who owned said eyes, delicate brow raised. A flirtatious wriggle of his own brows followed, to which Hermione rolled her eyes. He brew a teasing kiss at her, which she just as playfully dodged, grin on her face. Draco pretend to fall over in pain, which caused Hermione to finally laugh, all of the previous nerves and doubts leaving her. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

“Any time,” he saluted just as the amplified voice of Jordan Lee boomed through the pitch.

“And now, Ladies and Gents, it is time for our first semi final match,” he declared. 

“As our challenger is one third of the golden Trio, who has freckles everywhere if Lavender Brown is to be trusted,” Luna mused. “Which, I suppose we might as well, considering their relationship has been quite well documented. That is to say the challenger of this match is Auror Trainee Ronald Weasley.”

A laugh spread through the crowd as Hermione spotted a puce Ron. He scowled, arms crossed defensively across his chest as he marched up the stairs on the opposite end of the stage. A dark amusement gripped the brunette as she watched her former friend and lover step upon the stage, obviously embarrassed and unnerved. He muttered dark nothings to himself, which just made Hermione want to cackle.

“And now, as the defender of this match, another third of the Golden Trio, our very own Hogwarts Heroine, Princess of Gryffindor, Hermione Granger,” Jordan revealed with a flourish of his hands. 

A loud cheer erupted through the crowd as Hermione stepped onto the stage opposite of her now opponent. Once more, her logical mind took over, the emotional bits shoved into their corner of her mind. She watched the man she knew oh so well. Once more Hermione found that she frightened her opponent, or, at the very least, the circumstances did. Weight shifted between his feet, eyes flitted to and fro, and his hand twitched, all nervous ticks Hermione had learned over the years.

“Today, our referee for this match will be Madam Hootch,” Luna continued, the instructor stepping in between the two. “I would be much mistaken if this will not turn our like many of our matches.”

“For the rules of today’s match,” the woman’s harsh voice called out, magically amplified. “Bow to each other,” and both opponents did, their eyes never leaving the other. “As always, I want a good, clean match. Remember, dark spells will be an automatic disqualification to continue on, and illegal spells can land you in trouble. Do you understand?”

Both nodded at the Quidditch instructor, not trusting to talk in front of each other at the moment. The went to the opposite sides of the stage, waiting for the sign. Only moments later did the whistle blow, followed by swift, precise movements.

As planned, Hermione began easy, elementary spells so easy and basic that any student in the school could do them. One of her favorites included the tickling curse, followed by a jelly legs and then a flippendo. It made for a surprisingly effective threesome, even if only one or two landed. However, Ronald displayed some ability, as he was always a strong duelist, and directed, deflected, and shielded. The spells he threw at Hermione were new for him, and she mentally rose an eyebrow.

She followed the first year trio with the second year spells. She flung some fire, cast a severing, and even froze a few things all together. Ron, for his part, was confused. He expected her to be coming out firing on all cylinders, perhaps he depended upon that fact. She saw the confusion in his eyes, and she mentally smirked at herself. Fluid footwork and agile steps kept her one step ahead of his spell work. 

Brow furrowed in concentration, the Weasley across from her began to throw harder, darker spells. While none were ‘dark,’ they were more dangerous. Hermione’s eyes narrowed at this change. Ron in temper was nothing to laugh at nor underestimate. She decided to kick it up a notch, going to fifth and sixth year spells, mixing in non-verbals as well. Sweat gathered between her shoulder blades, on her brow, as the duel continued. 

“Why can’t you just accept that I’m sorry,” Ron finally snarled. “I don’t get why you’re mad at me, ‘Mione.”

“That’s not hard to believe,” she muttered to herself, sending off her own string of spells, hoping to finally incapacitate him.

“Why can’t you accept that I love you? I mean, you’re not much of a girl, but that doesn’t matter to me,” he continued, not heeding what she said. “I’m sorry!”

“Not how you make an apology, Weasley,” Hermione growled loud enough for him to hear, a particularly strong stunner exploding from her wand.

Unfortunately, he side stepped just in time, teetering for a moment on the edge of the stage, shield in front of him. Hermione launched a body bind at him, only for Ron to jump back on stage, successfully get out of the way. 

“And Ronald Weasley is trying to apologize by insulting Granger, never a good move, lads,” Lee grinned. “Don’t insult a girl if you want them to forgive you.” Professor McGonagall sent Jordan Lee a scathing glare, to which he added a sheepish, “Sorry Professor, but it’s true.”

On stage, Hermione progressed past whatever spells she had used in school, going into her more advanced, unknown reaches. Perhaps the most brilliant discovery of the past week was the uses of a patronus, and, on the spur of a moment, a bright, silvery otter burst from her wand. When asked later, Hermione swore the memory that produced such a strong corporeal patronus to be something to do with finding out she was a witch. In reality, a much more recent event filled the usually playful creature as it swirled around the red head. In his hurry to dispel the creature, Hermione sent several hexes at him. At the last moment, Ron conjured a shield, which absorbed the bat boogy hex. However, the severing charm broke throw and drew first blood. A snarl broke upon his face, all bets off, and the real duel began.

Hermione danced across the stage, shooting off curses and spells, shield charms and counter jinxes littered between. The rage she saw, contorted upon his face, would have chilled her even a few months prior. Now? It filled her with dark satisfaction. Each cutting curse, each spell she threw at him, began to take hold. His legs and arms were not left untouched. However, neither were her’s. She could feel her magical energy starting to deplete. Her body wheezed for breath as blood trickled down the side of her face. 

“You harpy! I was ready and willing to take you back after you spent some time cooling off,” he screeched, rage guiding his decisions. “And here I find that you haven’t changed at all! Not listening to my apology, not listening to what I say. You know it’s true!”

They heaved for air, lungs burning in need of the delicious oxygen in the air. She took this momentary reprieve to take in her surroundings. The stadium, now hushed, seemed to lean close to listen. Even the professors and other duelists who dotted the pitch around them watched with bated breath. 

“I am more than sure that it’s not,” Hermione huffed, wiping the sweat and blood from her forehead, never taking her eyes off of Ron, just in case.

“Mione, you know we’re meant to be, why can’t you see it?” Ron pleaded. “It’s like fate or destiny.”

Hermione ignored the snort from Neville and laugh-turned-cough from Draco, opting to lift a single brow in his direction in question.

“Come on, you know no one else will like your bushy hair or bookish, swotty personality,” Ron cajoled. “Not everyone is patient enough to pretend to listen to your lectures or care about every book you read. You should be with someone who can do those things, who will-“

Hermione didn’t let him finish. So thoroughly insulted, her wand twitched as she sent a furious volley of spells at her former boyfriend. He seemed to take the hint, rolling out of the way and sending back his own spells. They continued until the red head shouted, “You should just forgive me, dammit!” 

With it, a dark spell burst forth from his wand. Honey eyes widened at the sight of it disbelief andincredulity mixed with anger. She heard an audible gasp from the side of the stage, sure that at least two other people knew that spell. At the last second she simply flicked her wrist, sending the spell to land harmlessly in the grass beyond the stage, fire in her eyes. 

“Apology,” she shouted, charging towards the boy, “Not,” she flicked her wrist, sending her magic into a furious attack, “ACCEPTED!”

A bang echoed throughout the stadium as a close ranged stunner hit Ron square in the chest. His eyes, wide and horrified, gazed in dazed shock. As with Lavender before him, Hermione bound him before walking up to Ron. With a shake of her head, Hermione leaned down, took the wand from his petrified hand, and gave it Madam Hootch before walking off the stage to a silent audience. 

Applause began to fill the arena as she walked into the nearest locker room, the sound muffled to her numb mind. The approving roar, raucous rooting, and assortment of whistles and sounds lost upon her ears. She couldn’t believe it. Not even a little. Not once did she think Ron would ever cast that spell on her and mean it. She retreated to a far corner, the locker she claimed for herself, and sat, her eyes staring at the ground.

The words, went unheard by the crowd, was quite clear to her. She saw his lips move, and even if his voice did not reach her ears, Hermione had no doubt what he intended. His eyes, full of hatred and anger, still burned. No, she didn’t want him, nor did she think she could’ve been friends with him -no for some time at the very least. However, she never thought he would stoop so low. The word formed in her minds eye, as it replayed that moment on loop.

_“Sectumsempra!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! It took me a bit to write since I am not the best at action scenes. I don't know which spells are appropriate, nor am I always the best one to make up spells for duels. So, I choose to be a bit more vague. It's something I do need to work on, so please bear with me if you find these fights odd, disjointed, or oddly paced. 
> 
> As always, thank you guys for reading and sticking with it! I hope you guys all enjoy this chapter and continue to read, as well as check out my other stories.
> 
> As a note, I do have some interesting story ideas as well! If anyone wishes to hear about future stories (that are in the process of being outlined), please feel free to comment or send me a message. Thank you all once more!


	6. A Small Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the match with Ron, everyone carries on and recovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long, long wait you guys! I am so happy to have a new chapter out. Even if it's a bit shorter than normal, I just felt like it was the perfect place to end it. I want to give a shout out to my loyal readers and commenters. You know I enjoy reading your comments and will respond as much as possible. Thanks for being patient, and I hope you guys enjoy!

Draco Malfoy knew he had a temper. As a child, he would often throw a fit to get new toys, brooms, tickets, anything he wanted. In fact, this made him quite spoiled. He knew it, too. Not until he entered Hogwarts did he ever encounter anyone capable of saying no. He knew the difference between an authority figure or elder ‘correcting’ his behavior, but his peers? Who would ever deny Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?

Then she came. Bushy hair, smart mouth, up turned nose, and, perhaps most confusing, muggle-born. She denied him satisfaction in bullying, of making her cry. She beat him for the top spot in their academics. She punched him, for Circe’s sake. Amidst the loathing, dislike, and jealousy grew respect and admiration. Her sharp wit, and sharper tongue kept him on the edge, stimulated and entertained. Her courage and selflessness, while seen as stupid in his self preserving mindset, impressed him.

Now, watching her almost run off the pitch, he felt the infamous temper threaten to break. Years taught him self-control, yet patience began to fail him, red clouding his vision. If it were not for his match against Potter, Draco would have marched straight after her. As it stood, Madam Pomfrey and a few assistants helped the Weasel off the stage. A loud, dreamy voice droned through the stands, announcing the next match to start within a few moments.

Bright, emerald eyes stared at his own grey, reflecting the horror and rage he felt at the spell cast. While several others heard of the spell, none of them had seen it. The concern in his former rival’s eyes pierced the fog of his mind, and Draco noticed the worried and confused gazes of the group.

“Pansy, Longbottom, make sure she’s alright,” his gruff voice barked. “Potter, we have a duel to settle.”

Sudden activity surrounded Draco, his mind racing far from the stage. Minutes trickled by in a blur, mind unable to focus on the buzz that surrounded him. A dull din registered as a more authoritative voice began to talk once more. Eyes followed Potter as he approached the stage, ears finally dialed in as the crowd roared to life.

“And the defender in this match is Eight Year, Draco Malfoy of Slytherin house,” Luna announced, a mixture of murmurs, cautious cheers, and jeers greeting him. “Well known for his spell and wand work, his aura is quite dark. Good thing there are no nargles present. We don’t want to add nargle-murderer to his titles.” He rose a single, blonde eyebrow at the Ravenclaw. “No offense, Draco.”

As Madam Hooch stepped between the duelists, hush fell along the crowd, silence pressing onto the pitch. A palpable energy pulsed through the stadium as grey met green. In the blink of an eye, they were off.

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

Awareness abandoned the brunette lioness as her legs carried her far from the stadium. Each harsh breath tore through her throat and burned in her lungs. Salt coated her tongue mixed with a bitterness she could not place. Even then, she continued to run until her legs took her to a familiar place; her secret alcove in the restricted section.

Hermione accepted many things in her life changed over the past year or so. She thought that a friendship forged in a time of need, tempered over years of unified action through conflict would never be one of those things. As actions stood, it appeared the friendship she thought neigh unbreakable to be more fragile than spun sugar.

“Merlin’s beard, she runs fast for a bloody bookworm,” the huffing voice of Pansy came around the corner.

“And that’s surprising how?” Neville panted, their steps nearing her secluded hiding spot.

“I don’t know,” the black haired witch exhaled loudly. “Because books don’t run from you?”

“She spent a year avoiding people, running probably became a requirement at some point,” Hermione could hear the Gryffindor male roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, it took me by surprised,” the muttered response.

Thinking quick, wards and spells weaved their way around her. She could still hear outside of the protective bubble, but neither could actually force their way into her space. Time. That is what she needed right now. Time to get over the fact that one of her best friends, since she was eleven, not only cheated, hurt and abused her, but used a spell so dark, so danger, so lethal on her. To say it shocked her deep within her usual hard exterior would be a blatant lie.

Instead, she spent time sorting through her thoughts and feelings, being none the wiser to the events swirled around her in the library.

“She’s here, you know,” Neville sighed as he hit a barrier, familiar magic blocking him.

“Are you blind, Longbottom?” Pansy quirked a brow.

“I’m as blind as you are daft,” he retorted, pulling a chair from a nearby table and settling upon it.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting down,” came with a shrug. “She won’t leave until she feels good and ready. We found her, and are keeping an eye out for her. That’s all we can assure Malfoy of at the moment.”

“Once more, how do you know we found her?” The Slytherin asked, neck twisting this way and that to find the missing brunette.

“Warding magic, Parkinson,” Neville sighed.

“You can feel wards, though,” came the predictable answer.

“Think it through. Who was able to ward themselves so completely that, despite being the most wanted people in wizarding Britain, they were never found?”

A few moments ticked by until a soft, “Oh.”

“Exactly,” the Gryffindor snorted. “I know what her magic feels like, we’ve been mates for years now. It’s also how I know she doesn’t want any company right now. The only three people I can think of that could go through her wards are down on the quidditch pitch right now.”

Face scrunched with thoughtfulness, Pansy thought through all she had heard. She turned her deep, brown eyes towards the Gryffindor brunette to her side, his fingers turning the page of an old herbology text with idle curiosity. Unable to fathom what drove Hermione to such great distress, nor why Draco appeared ready to murder, she turned her mind to more interesting pursuits. 

“What happened out there?” she mused aloud, a sly glance cast to the side.

“I couldn’t tell you,” his nonchalant reply.

With an equally insignificant sound, observations filtered into Pansy’s mind. Despite his appearance of calm, Neville sat quite tense, shoulders held tight, ears pricked, movements far too practiced and even to be natural. This did nothing to ease her sudden bout of conscious. Anything the orangoutang of a wizard could do that upset her friends so completely did not bode well. Yet, for the life of her, Pansy couldn’t figure it out. 

All the while, Hermione watched with bated breath and curious mind. Thoughts floated across the surface of her mind, all trying to rationalize what just happened. Normally, such a curse would not even phase her, yet, what did happen out there? A fit of temper. This she knew, but was that all? Magic, all dark, light, and all the various shades of grey, revolved around intent.Reasons and thoughts struck themselves from her internal list. Too logical. Too silly. Not Ronald enough. Absolutely unreasonable. Yet, no acceptable answer presented itself. 

So she sat, guardians engaged in quiet conversation her only companion. Time slipped by once more, her mind unable to comprehend it’s passing. Too soon, yet after an eternity, familiar voices intruded upon the little gathering outside her wards. Baritones and tenors mixed with a shrill soprano, her wards acting as a one-way mirror to the rest of the library. 

“She’s been in here the whole time?” One of the voices asked.

“Her wards are up,” another responded.

“How can you tell?” A questioning female asked, curious lilt at the end.

“Can’t you feel it?” the first voice questioned.

“No, but I can see it,” the other new, male said.

She refused to take her eyes off the hypnotic darkness of the lake surrounded by snow’s white blanket. Mind and ears registered the first voice, Harry’s concerned tenor, and Ginny’s lilting soprano. Warmth spread at the sound of Draco’s warm baritone. Their words, catalogued for later use, rolled off her mind. 

“We found her here, kind of,” Pansy shrugged, eyes darting towards the “empty” corner.

“I don’t see anything,” Ginny bluntly stated.

“She set up her privacy wards, like at the burrow,” sighed her boyfriend. 

“Oooh.”

“Wards? She’s sitting right there, looking at the lake,” the frown of Draco Malfoy could be heard.

Her mind painted the picture of two grinning girls, an exasperated Neville, and Harry’s thoughtful frown. A slap echoed through the quiet Restricted Section, followed by a couple of giggles. Someone heaved an almighty, exhaled breath. Lips almost broke into a melancholy smile, amused at the antics of her friend. 

“Hey, Ginny, I was thinking of getting something from the Great Hall, would you join me?” Harry inquired, voice measured into more of a command than a question.

“Sure, I’d love to,” the cheery response. “Hey, Neville, Pansy, want to come, too?”

“I don-“ Neville began before Pansy finished.

“Of course, Ginevera, darling,” beamed the Slytherin. “Neville would be more than happy to join us! Draco will just call a house elf when he’s ready, isn’t that right Draco?”

“Whatever you say, Pans,” he drawled. 

“With that settled, let’s go,” she brightly hummed, dragging the reluctant brunette Gryffindor.

“I hate you all,” Neville muttered, murderous undertone ignored by all, bringing a chuckle to Hermione.

A scarce moment later, no other sound could be heard as the quartet left a brooding lioness and blonde snake. Hair on the back of her neck stood to attention, his gaze burning into the back of her head. Still, she did not acknowledge him. Her mind wandered to it’s earlier musings, distress and disappointment mixed with rage and hurt; a most potent, debilitating cocktail of emotions. Shivers ran through her body as bells rang in her head as he walked through the protective wards. No sound or word left his lips as he settled across from her once more, as a month before. 

A comfortable silence enveloped the pair as she watched the lake in the dimming light of day. 

“Life sucks,” Hermione said, voice low and rough. 

“Very true,” Draco smirked, humorless and bitter.

“I hate being weak,” she whispered, biting her lower lip.

“You’re aren’t,” grey eyes observed her as she wrung her hands.

“Yes, I am,” she growled, honey eyes swung to meet his, sparkling with unshed tears. “Here I am, about to break down, _again_ , because of a boy. Gods, I feel like a weepy, emotionally unstable female, and I hate it.”

“He was your best friend for years,” murmured Draco as loathing battled the urge to comfort her.

“Some friend,” she snapped, head swinging to look out the window once more. “Always taking me for granted, treating me like a walking textbook and homework checker, trying to put me down. Never listening to me when I said anything, blaming me when things went wrong. Harry and I were too soft on him.”

Draco remained silent, unable to find anything else to add. He agreed with the last statement. Then again, as a Slytherin, unconditional forgiveness wasn’t really his thing. 

“Circe above, I knew that he and Harry took that damned book and learned what spells they could before they put it back,” she continued in a low growl. “I just didn’t think he’d use that on me. _Me_! I’ve saved his ungrateful ass more times than I can count. His marks. His laziness. I’ve covered up for it all, and how does he repay me? By cheating on me, insulting me, and trying to bloody _kill_ me.

“And how do I respond,” her rant went on without abating, “I turn into a predictable pile of female stereotypical goo. I weep, I bawl, I isolate myself. I revert into a heart broken, love sick fourth year, for Merlin’s sake. I hate that I care so much. I hate how much it hurts. It hurts so much, Draco.” 

Her unspoken plea pulled at his heartstrings. His body moved on instinct, raising from his seat to her side. As her voice broke at last, silent tears slipping down her cheeks, warm, strong arms slipped around her waist. He drew her back against his chest, head settling upon her own. She embraced him, once more letting her grief soak his shirt. 

“You aren’t weak,” he murmured, hand running up and down back to sooth her. “You, Hermione Granger, are the strongest woman I know.”

They stayed for some time like that, sand slipping down hourglass of life. 

~~~ | ELEMENTARY | ~~~

“How come Draco could see through Hermione’s wards?” Pansy asked in the loud, over full Great Hall.

Neville watched as Ginny and Harry exchanged a silent conversation. His eyes slid from his friends to the other tables. For the duration of the tournament there were no official House tables, with the influx of people, the Headmistress didn’t want to restrict where people sat. Habit proved to be hard to change, as most kept to their table. That didn’t stop the four of them from settling at the surprisingly full Slytherin table, where many of the trainees took residence due to the lack of current students. 

“You know that magic is all about intent and concentration, right?” Harry began. Pansy nodded, cueing the Boy-Who-Lived to continue. “When we make wards, we want to do something, usually keep someone or something out or away. A normal ward covers everything, and basic wards are rather rigid. If I cast your normal silencing ward, it will block all sound from leaving or coming into the area. A privacy ward will block everyone from coming or going.”

Pansy nodded, a scowl upon her face. Neville knew the feeling. Often times, when Harry or Hermione would explain something they found new, well, many raised in the magical community found it redundant. Whereas a person, like Ron, often didn’t pay attention to such lessons, he knew that many were not as oblivious.

“I know, I know, it’s all basic and all that rubbish, but it’s important,” Harry rushed, a slight flush on his face. “It’s just, that, when we were on the run, Hermione played with wards. We were kind of bored, alone in the woods, you know.” A hand self consciously rubbed the back of his head. “Long story short, she found a way to manipulate the wards to allow only those she wanted to have access through them. She could tunnel certain people into the wards. It’s how Ron and I knew where the camp was after we left it.” 

“While that’s advanced and all, it’s not exactly surprising, Potter,” Pansy snorted. “Any witch or wizard can do that with enough practice.”

“What I’m getting at, _Parkinson_ , is that when using the basic wards, she gives only those she wants a tunnel,” Harry bit out.

Neville watched as the light of realization sprang to life in her chocolate eyes. A slow, devious, pleased smile grew upon her face before she turned and squeezed the life out of him. Her delighted squeal brought the attention of many to their small group. Some laughed, others rolled their eyes, and Harry and Ginny smirked.

“She’d make wards at the Burrow whenever Ron ticked her off and she needed to calm down,” Ginny added in a conversational tone, reaching for a roll.

“That ended with either of us or George going to straighten her out,” Harry nodded before he stuffed a piece of turkey into his mouth.

“Pansy, can I at least eat,” the brunette whined.

“I could kiss you, Potter,” Pansy beamed as she released Neville from her hold. “But I won’t. Ginevera, I leave you to do so.”

“My pleasure, Miss Parkinson,” the cheeky reply.

“For the record, I still hate all of you,” Neville grumbled.

“But a happy Hermione is a good Hermione,” Harry grinned, fork bobbing at his friend. 

“She’s also a fun Hermione,” Ginny inserted. “Imagine what Hermione would’ve been like if she embraced one of the twins.”

“I don’t want to die from pranks, thanks,” Neville deadpanned, skewering a green bean. 

“Besides, she balances Draco,” Pansy nibbled on her roll with a thoughtful glint in her eyes. “Despite how hard she is now, he’s been more open and compassionate since they’ve become friends.”

“She is a bit more carefree,” Ginny agreed. “They are a good match.”

“His parents?” Harry quirked an eyebrow.

“Slytherin,” the Slytherin shrugged. “Adaptable and self-preserving. If they were smart, they’d see that their son becoming attached to her as the social boon it is. They would know to swallow their pride and shed their skin and become tolerant at the very least. Narcissa will, at the very least, support her son’s decision.”

“She would do anything for him,” Harry murmured. “Has already, really. Lucius is who I worry about.”

“He is kind of terrifying,” Neville mumbled. 

“That asshole got me possessed first year,” the youngest Weasley growled. 

“Do I want to know?” Pansy raised a manicured brow.

“He’s a manipulative asshole who uses children as pawns for his own purposes,” Ginny muttered, smashing her potatoes with unnecessary force.

“While all true, I will let that story slide for another time,” Pansy diplomatically stated. “Lucius has not ‘real’ power since Draco is technically the head of the family.” They all nodded, remembering the trials that took place in June. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be afraid of him. He’s always disliked Hermione, and when he finds out, it won’t be pretty. He is still influential, even in a cell.”

“Well, this has been cheerful,” Neville groaned, rolling his eyes. 

“As long as he doesn't team up with my idiot of a brother,” Ginny echoed the boy’s action.

“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry sighed. 

“At least tomorrow is the last day of the tournament,” Pansy hummed.

“I can’t wait to see Lavender and Ron duel,” Ginny gave wicked grin.

“Five galleons that Lavender beats him into submission,” the Slytherin girl answered with a similar expression.

“That’s a sucker’s bet,” Harry laughed. “A woman scorned and all of that.”

The talking continued for a few minutes later and, as the desserts popped onto the table, Neville thought back to the duel. Ron’s last spell, he did not recognize. Expressions from Harry and Draco flitted through his mind, and still he could not see what made that particular spell bad. Their reaction wouldn’t have been out of place for an Avada, and he knew it wasn’t an unforgivable. _Those_ he knew far too well by now. 

“Hey, Harry,” Ginny piped up, “What spell did my idiot of a brother use that made you all lose control?”

The Chosen One nearly dropped the sizable piece of treacle tart at the question. Blood fled his face, leaving a white face behind, scar standing out. 

“That bad?” Pansy’s brow furrowed.

“Y-you remember sixth year, and w-what happened to Malfoy?” Harry stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing. 

Pansy’s face turned a similar, pallid shade. If pressed, Neville would even say it looked green. She raised a hand and pressed it to her mouth, eyes wide in shock and surprise, unable to keep her Slytherin mask. Neville knew his face reflected Ginny’s, alarmed confusion. 

“What exactly…?” Ginny trailed off in concerned shock.

“It was horrible,” Harry whispered. “So much blood from everywhere. I-I couldn't stop it. If it weren’t for Snape, well, the spell wouldn’t exist in the first place, but… I mean, he, Malfoy, would have died.” 

“The scars he has are extensive and horrible,” Pansy bit her lip, eyes swimming from the memory. “He was so weak afterwards, too. A-and Weasley used that on _Hermione_ , knowing what it would do?”

“Y-yeah,” Harry stuttered. “When I used the spell, I didn’t know what it would do. I-I found the spell in a borrowed potions book. Come to figure out that it was Professor Snape’s, and he made the spell for it. I-I thought it would do something more benign, like, hang him from his ankles in the air or something. N-nothing so lethal. Ron, though, he knew exactly what it would do when he cast it today. In the end, the spell was never introduced to Voldemort or the Death Eaters.”

“So, the only people who knew of the spell were you, Snape, Malfoy, Hermione, and Ron,” Neville picked up the strings of thought. “With only you and Malfoy still alive to know what it looked like.”

“He is so getting a Howler tomorrow, and hell for the rest of his life,” Ginny ground out, form shaking next to Harry.

“No wonder she broke down like that,” Pansy leaned back. “Circe above, I don’t know if I’d be able to finish that duel in the first place.”

“Talk about betrayal,” Neville agreed with a heavy sigh.

“But still,” a small smirk growing on the Slytherin girl’s face. “At least she wanted Draco to comfort her.”

Neville smacked his head as the girls shared a mischievous grin. Merlin help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on you guys, you all know you love exasperated Neville. I find him quite amusing. I had a stroke of inspiration while writing this chapter for how the rest of the story would progress. Part of my problem was figuring out how to 'finish' the piece. I know generally how it would go, but he actual obstacles were a bit of a foggy, hazy feeling. I am excited to finally get the rest going on. I am actually writing the notes of where I want it to go right now so I don't forget!
> 
> I also wanted to bring a bit of a spotlight to my two other works that I have open on AO3, as well as some future pieces I have been working on. I know I take an age to update (yay moving, holidays, and finding out why I've been tired and sick!). Rest assured, I am still writing and planning these fics as well as future fics. Do not be discouraged! Below are my currently WIP stories here:
> 
> AU, Dramione, Slytherin!Hermione: Hermione is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor. This story starts on the train and will go through the war and a bit after. She is challenged and decides to be the best Slytherin possible. I try to keep her as IC as possible, but it's a bit of a different take. It looks at Slytherin culture and life from a different perspective with our favorite bookworm as the protagonist. 
> 
> EWE?, HBP AU, Dramione, Lovebottom: Mostly from Horace Slughorn's perspective as the nosy, meddlesome matchmaking professor (Because, really, that's just fun). It starts during HBP, and was originally a one-shot. Slughorn decides to match up both Draco and Hermione as well as Neville and Luna. It's a bit more light-hearted at the moment, and really, one of my personal favorites to write. I encourage you guys to read it!
> 
> As for the rest, I have at least five stories on the docket that are either partially or completely outlined/fleshed out. They go through Apprentice Hermione, Arranged Marriage, Resorting/8th Year (a personally amusing one, will feature a similar Hermione to this one), Veela mates, and Pureblood!Hermione (though not adopted), all of which are Dramione. Throw in two or three Tomione ideas, and you have what's on my mind thus far. I may have one or two Dramione one-shots coming along as well.
> 
> I hope you guys continue to read and enjoy my stories! Please check out my others, and feel free to comment, talk, and share. I am more than happy to talk to you guys, and enjoy your comments and reviews. <3 you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for writing! I started writing this intending it to be a one shot, and then it kind a grew. Like all my short stories, they kind of take a life of their own. Especially when I like the characters, and when they interact well. Like Hermione and Draco. They work so well together, and are so much fun to write. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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